


Hour of Need

by lordoftheflyingfucks



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Epilogue, Gen, I blue-shelled Merlin so he isn't overpowered, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Modern Era, Mystery, Police, Post-Canon, Reincarnation, basically what a post-finale special should be, characters meeting in wacky circumstances, jail break, the showrunners wish they had this idea
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:35:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 36,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24289021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lordoftheflyingfucks/pseuds/lordoftheflyingfucks
Summary: Merlin has waited over a thousand years to hear Arthur’s voice again, and what are the first words he hears?“FREEZE, POLICE!”Caught off-guard at the worst possible time, Merlin is arrested by a reincarnated Arthur, who doesn’t recognise him and seems to think he’s murdered someone. All while the real killer is out there, working towards a catastrophic end.Albion’s hour of need has finally arrived.
Relationships: Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 71
Kudos: 136





	1. Prologue

Today would be an uneventful day.

The sky was grey, time sluggish, and the ruins of Avalon rested peacefully as they had done for hundreds of years. Merlin gazed down at the lake as he walked home, groceries in hand, bones aching and creaking with every step. The world seemed sleepy lately, but maybe that was just Merlin himself. He suspected that today, and the following days, would be uneventful. At least he hoped.

It was today, on this ordinary grocery run, that Merlin decided it was time to be reborn.

He would do this every so often, when he could no longer tolerate the deterioration of his infuriating body. It wouldn’t die, you see, not of its own volition. Merlin had never overwhelmingly wanted to die, but as he let time take its toll, he soon discovered (within the first century) that his body was determined to go on. No matter how weathered it became, his rickety old body would go on living, ever weighing Merlin down on his adventures.

The only adventure Merlin would have today is climbing the rugged stone steps to his cottage, while trying to avoid falling back and cracking his head open. Merlin didn’t fear death, but thought he might as well avoid it if there was still good he could do while alive. And since he was alive, he might as well live without aching joints. Today his knees were causing him particular discomfort.

As Merlin reached his hillside cottage, he caught sight of his face reflected in a window. _Hello Dragoon,_ he thought. He’d hardly noticed the past few years creep up on him till now, and he let his free hand trace the deep lines on his face. It was as if they appeared overnight, although these days a year could flit past in the space of a night.

Merlin’s bushy white brow furrowed as he turned to gaze guiltily over the lake Avalon, at the old ruins standing there as if in judgement. Merlin had let himself get old and inattentive. That wouldn’t do for Arthur’s return. If he ever returns.

Merlin cast one last look across the peaceful lake below and closed the front door behind him. It was time to prepare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay this chapter is a little taster before the story gets going, future chapters will be longer. I have about half the story written right now and the rest mapped out, so I'll post every week or two and will hopefully finish in decent time, although that's what I said about my other fic haha. Sorry if you're waiting on Collapsing updates but right now I'm more psyched about writing this one, so I'm gonna steam ahead with it. Not to toot my own horn but it's sick! I have plot twists and everything, just you wait.
> 
> Anyway thanks for reading everyone, stay tuned for updates x
> 
> NOTE, 02/06/20- It feels glib to post cop content in this time, but when it comes to the Merlin universe, Arthur going from King to Cop feels like an appropriate translation of his privilege. While it’s fine for us as a fandom to indulge in the fiction of both good monarchs and cops, in reality there is no justification for the divine right of kings, or the exemption of law enforcement from the law. Even though I portray the police uncritically in this story, know that in reality you should always think critically about institutions of power and the people within them.
> 
> In case my point isn’t clear enough- Fuck Blue Lives!


	2. Metamorphosis

The eye of a water snake. 5 sprigs of rosemary. A dracaena sapling, burnt sage, 5 pounds of crushed beetles, molten frankincense, moon flower oil, a stone from the stomach of a black hog, 50lbs worth of candles and about one hundred other ridiculous things.

In past centuries it had taken Merlin months, sometimes years, to gather all the necessary ingredients for a de-aging ritual. Now it just took a few strange online purchases and one non-judgemental farmer.

What took less time and more energy than getting all the ingredients was setting the stage. His cottage was the perfect size, he’d made sure of that when he built it. Before that he’d had issues of waking up to holes in the ceilings, entire walls gone, his favourite paintings poked through. But his cottage was all one nice round room, so Merlin wouldn’t need to knock through any walls, and the ceiling was high. In fact, the whole roof curved up around the fireplace embedded in the central pillar. It looked rather like a grand turnip from the outside, with a thatched roof and smoke billowing out the stem. Inside was cosy, with comfy armchairs around the fireplace, old stone walls, antique devices, books and memorabilia from centuries old lovingly adorned on every shelf and cranny available.

Merlin sighed. He loved his cottage. it would take ages to fix afterwards.

With a wave of his hands the whole room began to stir. Objects lifted up as if caught in a gentle current, clothes burst out of the wardrobe and wrapped themselves around fragile items as if possessed, everything that could pack up into a box neatly folded itself into any it could find, and what couldn’t floated patiently around the room.

Merlin walked over to a cupboard and pulled from it a very old suitcase. He placed it down on the floor and opened the lid as if presenting it to the room. The floating objects didn’t pay it much mind, but after a smile and a flash of golden eyes, the objects suddenly took notice. With a flurry they all piled into the suitcase one by one, not just the things floating but everything else in the house too. The oven plucked itself out of the wall and charged over, closely followed by the fridge and the dishwasher. The wardrobe and drawers and great chests of treasure all piled in. The suitcase seemed to take it all in its stride, stretching to make way for the heftier items, and soon the room was stripped bare.

Merlin let out a sigh as he looked around the bare room. There was still more damage to do. Carefully and methodically, Merlin worked his way from one side of the house to the other pulling out all the wiring and anything remotely electrical from the walls. Magic made it relatively quick work of course, but it was still a rather tedious process, and his home looked a sorry state by the end of it. It was unfortunately necessary though, as electricity and magic were two forces that tended not to get along, and Merlin didn’t trust them to behave together while he was unconscious. Even just wires arranged to host electricity could confuse his magic, it was like an alternative pathway for the energy to seep into. He bundled up all the wiring and sent it flying into the suitcase, out of trouble’s way.

A bead of sweat rolled down Merlin’s temple. He closed the suitcase, buckled the latch, picked it up and took it outside. It was important to keep this particular artefact away from the ritual, as it’s own powerful spell work could interfere with the process. It was essentially a stick of dynamite.

After putting the suitcase down by his carrot patch, Merlin brought his palms together before him, and then slowly drew them apart. The ground before him parted at an equal speed, soil churning up and spilling over the grass. Merlin slotted the suitcase into the earth, grabbed a carrot from the exposed soil, and with a wave of his arms pushed the earth back into place.

Back inside, Merlin gazed at the big empty room and munched his carrot. The only movement before him was a lively fire raging merrily in the huge central pillar, under a real warlock’s cauldron. The potion had been brewing for several days now, and had just gotten that earthy, appley aroma that meant it was ready. Merlin carefully levitated it to one side and took a deep breath as he readied himself for this next step.

With a thrust of his hands Merlin blasted his beautiful fireplace pillar into pieces. He’d loved it of course, but he needed the centre of the room clear, and he could always rebuild it afterwards. Merlin looked up through the exposed chimney hole in his roof and pulled a gust of wind down through it, clearing the rumble and dust out through the back door.

He then walked over to the bathroom, the one part of the house that existed as a separate room, a little bump protruding from the main turnip. He’d allowed one fixture to hang back from the suitcase, his lovely clawfoot bathtub. With a wave of his hand and some magical words the claws sprang to life, and the tub trotted into the main room and sat itself right where the fireplace had been. Levitating it would have been easier of course, but Merlin thought this way was more fun.

Finally, he floated the cauldron over and poured the still-warm contents into the bathtub, breathing in the lovely aroma as he did so. Merlin often made soups that felt like a breath of new life, but this was one of his rare concoctions that would literally give him life! Or at least make his current state of living a lot more tolerable.

As he stripped, Merlin felt a nervous excitement that he hadn’t felt in years. Oh, to be young! To wake without aching joints and upset organs, to see with fresh eyes and run with his heart beating strong. It was time to involved in the world again, to travel and help people in need, something he’d been lax on of late. But no matter, Merlin would make it up to the world, as he usually did in his bouts of youth. There was more to catch up on this time around than ever, why, even just the past decade had seen more phenomenally fast change than ever before. Merlin heard computers could do fantastic things these days… he’d need get up to date on it all if he wanted to pass as a young man in his twenties! Merlin smiled as he lowered himself into the tub. He’d go to the library first chance he could and catch up on it all. Who knows, maybe he’d even join this Myspace he’d heard about!

In the meantime, he prayed the world would stay in one piece in the few weeks his metamorphosis would take. Honestly, he wasn’t too worried; it had gotten by fine all the other times he’d done this. There was nothing to make him think this time would be any different.

As Merlin chanted the necessary incantations, he felt sleep coming over him, and as per usual his last thoughts before slipping into his magical slumber were of Arthur. Maybe this time around, in this lifetime he would come back. Merlin doubted it though- he’d seen nothing of late to indicate Albion’s time of need was approaching. No, he didn’t think he would be seeing his friend anytime soon.

 _Still,_ he supposed. _There’s always a chance._


	3. Isabelle

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

It had started again. It was a rainy night, heavier than it had been in a while, and the leak in the kitchen ceiling was back. Isabelle could not only hear it from the living room sofa, but see it through the great rips in the walls, and smell dust billow up as it hit the smashed tiles.

She drew the blanket up around her ears and huddled her hot water bottle, wishing for sleep. Mummy would fix it in the morning. And then they would go out to the woods together and collect firewood, and pick dandelions for soup, and sing and dance! And they could play that game where-

_Crash._

Something shattered upstairs. Isabelle wondered whether Mummy had thrown it or it fell. Maybe she had smashed something with a hammer. She had to break things quite often for her spells.

She used to let Isabelle help with her spells, but not so much lately. That had been more for gardening and stuff, sticks arranged to curse slugs away, potions for good dreams. They hadn’t done that in ages. Isabelle didn’t mind though, she knew Mummy needed all her magic for the big spell.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

But… maybe she could spare a little for the kitchen ceiling? It was already so cold, a wet floor just made it all the worse. If she went in there her socks would get wet! And Mummy wasn’t going to give her shoes back anytime soon, she needed them for the spell.

The little girl put a tentative foot on the ground. Mummy told her not to go up in the night, it was too dangerous with the holes in the floorboards and the nails and bits of wood. But if she went slowly, Isabelle thought, she could be careful. She could keep the lantern close to the ground to see what was ahead. It had almost burnt out, but if she went now then she would have enough light to get upstairs.

Hunched and shivering, she tiptoed through the wreckage of the house. The lantern wasn’t so bright, but holding it to the floor Isabelle could see down into the foundations of the house, where Mummy had ripped up the pipes. As she walked the corridor she reached up to trace the missing square where the light switch used to be, and the jagged gash down from it that carved into the floor. She passed by the kitchen doorway and saw moonlight bleeding in through the window, illuminating the bareness of it. Isabelle missed the fridge, and the freezer with it’s ice cream! And the cooker, and oven chips and baking cakes from box mix. But it was all bad, Mum said. All unnatural.

To be fair, roasting things on the spit fire could be fun too, it just took way longer.

As Isabelle climbed the stairs, she floated her hand along where the bannister used to be, and remembered how fun it had been to slide down it. She could see the door to Mummy’s room up ahead, and feel the heat from the yellow glow of its edges. Soon she would-

Eek! A motion by her feet made Isabelle’s heart jump, and she stumbled back a step. Her hand shot right through the banister that wasn’t there and she felt herself going over the edge, she dropped the lantern and quickly caught the edge of the step, slamming her other palm and knees beneath her. She didn’t fall. But…

There was a piercing heat in her hand. Without the lantern Isabelle couldn’t see, but she could feel something sticking through her. A nail, a long nail, on the edge of the step where the banister pole used to be. Where her hand currently was.

The door ahead opened and light poured down the staircase. Isabelle winced at the brightness, and through her tears saw a silhouette.

“Isabelle?”

Isabelle let out a wail in response, tears flowing from her eyes. Her mother flowed down the stairs and embraced her gently, her red curls flooding Isabelle’s vision.

“Oh my dear…” she stroked her hair and cast a woeful look at her daughter’s hand. “This will hurt, but we must lift it off.” She held the edge of Isabelle’s hand gently.

“Close you eyes.”

Isabelle screwed her eyes shut and sniffled. She felt a kiss on top of her head, and then the darkness of her eyelids exploded with colour as her hand lifted off the nail. She cried loudly as the sharp pain receded into throbbing, as her Mummy scooped her up and carried her onwards. Warmth suddenly surrounded her, and her wailing quietened as she opened her eyes and took in the scene around her.

Candles circled the room, hundreds! All different colours and sizes, adorning shelves that looked like they’d been nailed to the walls just to hold them. It was beautiful. And even more beautiful was the collage of broken glass at the base of each one, glinting like a million gemstones. There were lots of things surrounding the candles actually, on the floor and stuck to the wall, smashed tiles and plates and shards of metal. Isabelle recognised some things from around the house, lampshades and curtains, clothes and shoes, all ripped, broken and twisted to make patterns. There were so many patterns. More complex runes than Mummy had ever shown her before, all twisting together to form a gigantic whirlwind of colour around the room.

On the floor by the door there was a massive tangle of metal, wires from the walls, cutlery from the kitchen, the metal banister broken into bits. There was no pattern to them, but Isabelle knew Mummy wasn’t finished yet, she had a plan for it.

She placed her down gently in the centre of the room, by an oval mirror laid flat on the ground. There was a thin layer of water atop the mirror. Mummy sat on the other side and reached over to hold Isabelle’s shaking, bleeding hand above the mirror’s centre.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

Isabelle watched the deep red stain the water between them.

“Oh my dear…”

Her eyes were teary and her voice broke as she smiled lovingly at her daughter. Isabelle felt a calmness come over her.

“I should have known you’d want to help.” Mummy said with a sad, soft laugh. “Understand, I didn’t want you hurt. I love you.”

She started to stroke Isabelle’s palm lightly with her fingers, spreading the blood from her wrist to fingertips.

“But you are a witch. We are witches. Of course you’d want to help.”

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

The water between them was dyed red. The pain felt lessened, even though there seemed to be more blood coming from the wound. But Isabelle didn’t feel frightened anymore, because she was in her Mummy’s hands, and all she could focus on was her gentle caress. Her hand was red as well. But not from her, Isabelle realised, it was dried blood. It was on her dress too.

“Come here, my dear.”

Her mummy stood up and Isabelle copied, soon noticing the small ladder they were stepping towards. It was right in the centre of the room with them, Isabelle hadn’t really registered it before. Her eyes floated up to the ceiling.

Red, red, red. Red runes spiralling inwards all the way from the walls, red handprints adorning the centre, like the eye of the storm. The cuts made sense now. She’d been noticing them on Mummy for weeks, she thought it was from destroying the house. But it was for this.

She had told her this would take sacrifice.

“I’ll hoist you up!” She smiled down at her and patted the ladder playfully.

Isabelle paused. This wasn’t like any magic they’d done before. But the way her Mummy smiled at her… this would make her so happy. And she wanted to help. She let herself be guided lovingly up the ladder, and there in the centre of the whirlwind she placed her hand. She pressed it hard into the ceiling, and it hurt so badly but Isabelle could feel something wash over her. A kind of heat, a kind of energy. It felt right. Isabelle smiled down at her angel.

“Well done sweetheart.” Mummy beamed at her, lifting her off the ladder. She cradled her and carried over to the doorway, setting her down gently. “Now you must go downstai-“

“The mouse!” Isabelle noticed it with a start and chased it along the wall into the corner of the room. Here was the little creature that scared her before, shivering with fear before her. _Serves it right,_ she thought.

“Oh, look what you’ve found.” Her Mummy peered over her shoulder, and then quick as a flash ducked down and snatched the little mouse up. It squeaked fearfully in her fist, and she grinned at her daughter.

“Here.” Mummy carefully passed the mouse into Isabelle’s hands, who held it tightly. It squeaked louder as she wrapped her hands around her daughter’s and rolled her eyes back to the ceiling.

_“Reparanda statu vita ab mortem!”_

Isabelle jumped, it felt like a jolt of electricity had passed between her hands. She drew them apart, shaking slightly. The mouse was dead. Her hand had finally stopped bleeding.

“It’s okay.” Her Mummy said softly, stroking her hair. “He’s helping us. Look.”

She smiled and picked something off the floor to show Isabelle. Looking closely, the little girl could see it was a small animal bone, decorated with finely carved ruins. Looking around Isabelle noticed more bones on the floor. Some were quite big.

“They’re all helping us save the world.” Mummy smiled serenely. “We’re going to save everyone! Don’t you think that’s wonderful, my dear?”

Isabelle felt that warm feeling again and smiled back at her Mummy. She was finally trusting her to help! As if reading her mind, Mummy drew her in for a hug.

“You’re going to be such a good sister.” She hummed.

Isabelle smiled softly and kissed the small bump on her Mum’s belly. She’d heard so much about her sister already, all the good she would do in the world, all the good she had tried to do so long ago. Isabelle would get to grow up with her and protect her on her way to greatness. It was hard to believe she could already love someone so much, even when they hadn’t been born yet.

She couldn’t wait to meet little Morgana. Together they would do such great things.


	4. A Meeting of Fate

Everything was fine!

The sky was still in place, people were flitting about as normal, there wasn’t a sign or symptom of any doomsday disaster. It seems the weeks of Merlin’s absence had passed uneventfully.

And Merlin felt _fantastic_. God it was good to be young! Although his magic was thoroughly drained, Merlin’s body felt better than it had in years, and as soon as he woke Merlin set about testing it. He was currently swinging from some monkey bars in a playground after jogging a mile to the village. Thankfully it was a weekday afternoon so there were no parents there to shoo him away, only passers by giving him funny looks. He grinned and ignored them as he climbed atop the bars.

After clambering around some more, Merlin soon found he was absolutely starving, which made sense given he hadn’t eaten in about three weeks. The newly young man strolled down to the village café with a spring in his step and wolfed down a full English that his older self wouldn’t have been able to come close to finishing.

As he ate Merlin watched people pass by the café window and recognised a few familiar faces. Although Merlin wasn’t extremely active in the community, he had volunteered at the library and a few charity events since he stopped travelling so much a few years ago, so he had a few friends in the village. He’d told them he was moving up north to live with family. Merlin felt a small kind of grief seeing them pass by now, knowing he wouldn’t be able to talk to them as their friend again, but at the end of the day this wasn’t a new experience for him. None of them had truly known him anyway. Merlin loved people and even after all this time still had a propensity for making friends, but he had to admit that over the years there were few he’d felt truly bonded to, and none were alive to this day.

It was time he made some new friends and got involved in the world again. Start travelling and go where help was needed, engage with the world and it’s problems. He knew they were on the rise, and he was ashamed to admit he’d been slacking somewhat. Merlin resolved to buy a newspaper on the way home and start planning for a more productive future.

Before that though… maybe he ought to update his wardrobe a little! As he watched young folk pass by the window he couldn’t help but compare their looks to his own. He’d paid little mind to fashion over the years, but now he put his attention to it he noticed none of these twenty-somethings weren’t sporting suspenders OR cardigans. He must look quite out of place!

It wasn’t a huge village, but it at least had a couple of small clothing shops in the centre, so after some hours of deliberation and asking a confused shop assistant for guidance, Merlin made his way home in a new outfit that seemed modern but simple enough, and a few more options in bags for the coming days. He forgot to pick up a newspaper, but luckily saw a relatively dry one poking out of a paper bin by someone’s driveway. One man’s trash is another man’s treasure! Merlin plucked it out and continued on his way, and as he arrived home to his mess of a house an idea made him smile. The evening was early, and Merlin was an energetic young man. Why not pop out for dinner and surprise an old flame?

With a box of sandwiches and the week-old newspaper underarm, Merlin sauntered down the hill until he stood right at the edge of Lake Avalon, where he did a little spin and grinned out at the lake.

“What do you think, Freya? This is what the kids call fashion!”

There was no answer of course, there never was. But over time Merlin had become in tune with the lake, and he’d notice it had an aura that was distinctly… her. And right now, he was sure he could sense some amusement. If only lakes could laugh!

Merlin settled down on the shore and idly chatted to Freya as he scoffed down his sandwiches. It was nice to vocalise his thoughts, even if he couldn’t tell them to any actual living humans. After a while Merlin flicked open the newspaper, and as he read through it he mused to Freya about the sorry state of the world, wondering aloud what he should do to save it. Britain, for all it’s woes, was doing relatively okay, so maybe he should travel to war torn lands and put his medical abilities to good use.

After so many lifetimes this was quite a regular routine for Merlin. He would spend his youth flitting from one disaster zone to the next, doing what he could, which was never enough. Over time he would grow weary and retire to Camelot, or whatever remnant was left of it, and quietly await Arthur’s return. In all honestly, Merlin would get a little annoyed at his old friend from time to time. He’d lived through a bloody lot of “hours of need”!

Merlin sighed and shook his head. The news was as dire. “There’s always something, ey Freya?”

He knew that whatever good he did in the world there would still be trouble emerging elsewhere. The world was so full and busy now, stopping disasters was like playing whack-a-mole. Wherever he-

_‘MERLIN’S SPELL BOOK’ FOUND AT ANTIQUES SHOW’_

Merlin did a double take as he read the headline in the bottom half of one of the back pages.

_Excuse me?_ He thought, quickly reading the small article devoted to him.

‘Antique book collectors across the country were envious last week, as an old handwritten book appraised on the TV show ‘Antiques Roadshow’ was estimated to have a value of over £1 million, making it one of the highest value items ever traded on the program. Initial evaluation estimates the book is over 1000 years old, although it is shockingly well preserved for such a delicate artefact.

The appraisers were quick to thank magic for it’s good condition, as the book contains instructions for what appear to be a number of spells and potions. Additionally, the book cover is adorned with nothing but a decorative letter “M” (pictured left), which earnt it the nickname ‘Merlin’s Spell Book’.

Stanley Strongman, 56, was overjoyed with the sale of this item, saying he had “no idea what it was worth”. The book was purchased by a private collector, who has agreed to work with researchers at Bristol University to determine the history of the artefact.’

Merlin’s eyes bore into the small picture next to the article. It was mostly taken up by a beaming Mr Strongman and the presenters of the show, but held between them in gloved hands was a sight that made Merlin’s stomach turn.

That was Morgana’s spell book.

Oh sure, it wasn’t the first occasion Merlin had seen a calligraphy “M” in the style she favoured, but on a book of spells? A book of spells that Merlin could clearly identify was made in his time, in the time of Camelot. Merlin himself was one of the few relics from that back then, and his eye could date items from his youth better than any scholar out there. He felt certain.

It was _hers._

The old wizard jumped to his feet as a chill went down his spine. Merlin didn’t even realise she’d written a spell book, where the hell had it been hiding all these years? Who had been hiding it? And why would it emerge now, after all this time?

Mind racing, Merlin rushed back up the hill and jumped straight in his car, a little black Beetle. He needed to find out more about this book right away. Merlin didn’t have a computer and the village library would be closed by now, so he needed to drive to the student library in Bristol. His forehead crinkled as he remembered the article said Bristol University was examining the book. Why Bristol? Was this a coincidence, or destiny’s hand at work?

If the book was in Bristol then he could… No, first came the research. Merlin’s magic was still drained, so he knew to avoid trying any stunts unless he really had to.

He hoped he didn’t have to.

The drive felt painstakingly slow, and as Merlin entered the library, he thought how funny it was that exerting just a small burst of magic so soon after his transformation could exert such a physical toll. ‘Funny’ meaning ‘horrendously disconcerting’ of course. Even just tricking the library entry barriers into thinking he had a student ID caused a sudden wave of tiredness, and Merlin could barely keep his eyes open as he scanned the internet for any and all news on ‘Merlin’s spell book’.

Seeing the video clip of the book’s appraisal summoned a fresh wave of anxiety to wash over Merlin. He could see the markers of his original time more clearly than ever. And worse than that he could see markers of Morgana as they laughed and flicked through the pages; the angry spiked handwriting, references to places long forgotten by the world, and blood. Old, dried blood splatters. The appraisers didn’t know that’s what it was, but Merlin could practically smell it through the screen.

The book was evil. In the wrong hands it could do serious harm.

Dark sorcerers, and sorcerers in general, were in short supply these days, but they were still around. Often in remote places untouched by industrialisation, where the earth and its contents hadn’t been churned up and reshaped. Places where magic still flowed. Merlin was somewhat of a rarity, and it was unlikely that any other sorcerers watched antiques roadshow, but it was still a risk. Merlin couldn’t allow the book to remain out there.

Of course, Merlin wasn’t the world’s greatest sorcerer on this particular night, which he realised was a bad stroke of luck as he dug deeper into his research. It looked like he’d need to steal the book tonight, as tomorrow the private buyer was scheduled to whisk it away to unknown lands. Hacking the university’s email server was tiring but useful, as Merlin found out they had finished taking scans and conducting tests, so the book was being held at a private security firm nearby. Just 15 minutes from the library in fact.

Merlin gulped. He wouldn’t get another chance like this, but he was wary of rushing in with so little planning, not to mention he weedy magic. It was a stupid thing to do.

But it was 15 minutes away.

Thinking fast and trying not to overthink, Merlin jumped up, pulled his hood low and made his way over. He could do this, he thought. He’d just have to be more subtle than usual, more sparing with his magic. But it would be fine, it was late and at the end of the day it’s an old book, security for it wouldn’t be that extreme. He’d need to, what, knock out a security system and avoid a couple of guards? It would be just about doable.

As Merlin rounded the corner to the building his eyes landed on someone who made his heart skip a beat. A woman at the other end of the street reminded him eerily of Morgana. He didn’t see her face, but she sported a black hooded cape that Merlin knew (thanks to his little outing today,) was out of place in today’s fashion. Fortunately, the red hair spilling round the edges of the hood eased Merlin’s stomach, and he chastised himself for being so jumpy. It was just her book he would see tonight, not the wicked witch herself.

Merlin ducked into an alley before he reached the building, and soon found a fire door round back. Eyes closed in concentration, he placed his hands on it and felt the slight tickle of an electrical charge. Exerting more effort than he liked, he switched off the alarm system and coaxed the door open, stumbling a little he did so. He waited a minute before entering, wary that a guard may appear. No one came.

Once inside, Merlin made sure to keep his magic on high alert. In theory, Morgana’s book would carry an echo of her magic on it, so Merlin should be able to sense a distortion when he neared it. At least that was his plan for finding it, he had no idea how he’d locate it otherwise. So far he couldn’t sense anything, and he doubted it would be on the ground floor anyway, so he made his way upstairs.

Halfway through searching this floor he felt it. But it wasn’t the _it_ Merlin had been expecting. There was an aura radiating from round the next corner, but it wasn’t the dark magical presence Merlin had been expecting. It was good. It was familiar. _It was from Camelot_. Merlin picked up his pace along the corridor, he could sense it just around the corner. It was _agitated_. How could that be? How could a book be-

Merlin’s foot hit something and he tripped a little. Snapped out of his reverie, he looked down.

_Oh god._

A human leg lay still beneath him, sticking out from an open door to his side. The security guard attached to it lay equally still.

Merlin’s heart dropped to his stomach as he fell to the man’s side, but as his eyes adjusted to the shadows he could see he was too late. The guard’s eyes were open and glassy. There was a pool of blood around his head. He was dead.

Merlin’s breathing quickened as the shock set in, as the implications of this dawned on him. Had the murderer come for the book? Were they still here? Merlin’s head felt light as he stood up, he knew he couldn’t fight anyone now, he was still weak from-

“FREEZE, POLICE!”

In the time it took for Merlin to whip round, three crucial points occurred to him. The least significant was that he was in deep shit, caught by a policeman standing over a dead body. The second notable point was that the presence he felt… that strange, bold, familiar presence had moved to be right behind him, had snuck up on him in his distraction. The third, most overwhelming thought booming around his mind was that he knew that voice. _He definitely_ _knew that voice_.

Merlin’s eyes landed on the man and a shockwave passed through him.

The lights surged bright and burst as a wave of emotion swelled in Merlin, as he choked out the name he’d waited lifetimes to say.

“Arthur?”

BBZZZZZZZZZZTTPP!!

Arthur’s taser shot him square in the chest and a literal shockwave passed through him.

The wizard’s eyes rolled back into darkness, the image of his long-lost king still frozen upon them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to Divineoverseer, who's fic 'Meeting of Fate' is one of my favourites!


	5. D.I. King

Arthur King woke from a nightmare.

He woke suddenly and clutched his side, which turned out to be a stupid idea since he was close enough to the edge of the bed to promptly tumble out of it. Cursing and muttering, he got up stiffly and went to the bathroom to down a glass of water. He blinked drearily as his eyes and brain adjusted to consciousness, becoming painfully aware that it was the middle of the night.

Why did he have to do this to himself? Arthur scowled at his reflection before lifting his shirt to scowl at his perfectly healthy torso. It wasn’t the first time he’d woken with a phantom pain in that particular spot, in fact he’d even been concerned enough to get it checked out once or twice. Nothing wrong of course. The pain never appeared when he was awake, so they’d concluded he just had a particularly realistic reoccurring nightmare. Arthur was forced to agree, even though he couldn’t even remember this awful nightmare he was supposed to be having.

He tried to think of it now, but it had slipped from his mind as soon as he woke, like always. Actually… no, not like always. There was something there this time, Arthur realised with a frown, a faint wisp. If he strained his mind Arthur could remember the clang of metal. He could picture lightning and smell dirt and blood.

That last detail chilled him, and he shook his head. Just a stupid dream.

Arthur checked his phone before flinging himself back to bed, groaning when he realised it was 1AM. He was rested enough that he wouldn’t get back to sleep anytime soon. He tried anyway, tossing and turning for half an hour, before giving up and getting up. Going for a walk wouldn’t help, but Arthur felt the urge to do it anyway. He needed to do _something_.

He slipped out the house and into the quiet streets. Arthur had no particular destination in mind, so he just started walking, footsteps oddly purposeful for someone going nowhere.

This wasn’t something Arthur used to do at night; he’d just been trying it lately as his bouts of insomnia increased. It didn’t help him sleep, but it did calm him somewhat. Arthur had loved to explore ever since he was a little kid, it drove his parents nuts, him getting lost all the time. But he couldn’t help it, he just had to know every nook and cranny of a place. Arthur moved to Bristol two years ago, and by now there wasn’t an alley in the city he didn’t know.

He strode towards the city centre, surprising himself a little. Usually on his insomnia-driven walks he preferred the opposite direction, towards parks and nature. But tonight… this just felt like the right way to go.

At this hour the streets were mostly empty, save a few partygoers and the odd loner. He passed one woman dressed in a cape, maybe going to some themed party, or coming back from one. Who knows. Arthur wondered if any of the people he passed were like him, sleepless wanderers.

Probably not.

Arthur thought on this damned dream some more. It was something that had woken him on occasion for years now, but lately it was nearly every night. It hadn’t gone amiss at work either; his colleagues kept teasing him about how grumpy he was in the mornings. Arthur could hardly help it though, running on so little sleep.

Across the street an open door drew Arthur’s eye. Arthur frowned and walked over, increasingly suspicious. An office building with the front door wide open at 2am could only mean one thing. Arthur got out his phone and dialled 999.

“This is DI King of Bristol PD, I need a unit down to-“

The sentence froze in Arthur’s mouth as he peered through the open door. Peeking out from the base of the receptionist’s booth was a limp, lifeless-looking hand. A hand stained red.

_Oh god._

Arthur rushed in, freezing as he got a better look at the figure before him. He had hoped to help, but it was immediately clear there was no saving this man. The security guard’s eyes were open and still, and there was a bloody gash in his neck. One hand rested limp against it, while the other, the one Arthur had seen, reached away towards the edge of the booth. Maybe he’d meant to pull himself, Arthur thought. Or maybe he’d just hoped to be seen.

He’d been seen too late.

A distant voice buzzing caused the cogs in Arthur’s brain to move. His mobile was still in hand, and the woman on the other end was still waiting for an address. Arthur finished the call, updating her on the gruesome scene before him.

As he hung up Arthur noticed something he hadn’t before. A foot or two beyond the man’s outstretched hand was a taser. So that’s what he’d been reaching for. Bending down to look at it, Arthur could see it hadn’t been discharged, but was still switched on. Maybe he and the killer had struggled over it. Maybe his last thought was to stop them as he was left for dead.

Then something else caught his attention. A sound in the building. A quiet sound, but a sound all the same. It came from above.

Arthur’s eyes jumped around and caught sight of the stairs, before jumping back to the taser. For a split second he hesitated.

He was off duty, without backup. Officers were on their way. If he picked up the taser then he would be disturbing a crime scene and carrying a weapon. It would be irresponsible of him, as a detective and as a person, to pursue the criminal.

But then the killer would get away.

The split second ended, and Arthur grabbed the taser and dashed to the stairs. He moved up to the first floor and tread stealthily along the corridor, all his senses on guard. Listening more carefully than he ever had in his life, he detected it.

Footsteps.

Around the next corner and picking up pace. Arthur’s heart pounded as he brought the taser up in front of his chest and walked forwards, expecting the killer at any moment.

But the footsteps stopped. Unsure of what would happen, but knowing the risk was too high for hesitation, Arthur turned the corner ready to shoot.

The corridor was empty save for a lifeless leg sticking out from a doorway. Arthurs eye’s widened. Another victim, likely in the same state as the first.

The heel of someone else’s foot peeked out from the doorway too. Someone very much alive and kneeling by a dead body.

The person began to rise so Arthur bound over to the doorway, not a moment to lose.

“Freeze, Police!” he yelled, drawing the taser up.

The man in the shadows turned around quickly, and as he did so the light above them suddenly switched on and surged brightly, a loud buzzing filled Arthur’s ears, he winced from the noise and the light and before he knew it the lightbulbs shattered and-

“Arthur?”

BBZZZZZZZZZZTTPP!!

It all happened so quickly, broken glass was still falling as the taser struck the man’s chest. Arthur froze, shocked at his own actions and his finger squeezing the trigger. The man also seemed surprised as his eyes rolled back in his head and he fell face forward. Arthur acted on instinct and stepped forward before the man fell hard on the glass-covered floor. He was too far away to fully catch him, but he managed to awkwardly slow his fall and twist him round before his face met the glass.

Arthur could get a better look at him now the man’s head poked out into the dimly lit hallway. He was around Arthur’s age, maybe a little younger, with jet black hair and sharp features. He… didn’t look like a murderer. Arthur frowned. In fact, he looked…

He looked familiar. And was Arthur imagining it or had he said his name? He did, he said ‘Arthur’ like he recognised him. Arthur studied his face. Where did he know him from…

The sound of police sirens snapped Arthur out of his reverie, and he was soon yelling assurances to his backup downstairs. The next couple of hours passed in a blur, with Arthur explaining what happened multiple times over as the police swept the building and secured the crime scene. They didn’t find anyone else and Arthur could only attest to seeing the one man, but a narrative emerged that he must have had a partner who killed the guards, as he himself was unarmed and had no bruises from a fight.

His only bruise was the one on his chest from Arthur’s taser. An ambulanced had been called and the suspect was looked over at the scene. The longer he lay unconscious, the guiltier Arthur felt about using a weapon on an unarmed man, but after a bit of detective work it was discovered the taser was of a particularly weak variety. It shouldn’t have been able to knock someone unconscious, and the medics confirmed this, attributing his unconsciousness to exhaustion. Not that the light electrocution helped of course, but it was decided that he was well enough not to trouble the hospital with a police entourage, and he could instead sleep his tiredness off in a cell down at the station.

Arthur took one last long look at him before he was carted off. He knew that face from somewhere.

Shaking his head at the surrealness of the situation, Arthur headed inside to help with the investigation, and soon found himself giving orders. All the other detectives were home asleep or just waking up at this hour, so Arthur found himself the most senior officer there. At least until sunrise.

“King.”

“Chief.” Arthur nodded to his boss as he stepped through the doorway. Sanders looked from Arthur to the body on the floor and shook his head.

“And another upstairs?”

Arthur nodded solemnly. Sanders fixed a puzzled eye on him.

“You found him? At 2am?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” Arthur replied, hoping to gloss over his insomnia. “I went for a walk, saw the open door, saw…” He gestured to the mess before them with a sigh.

“You called for backup.”

“Yes.”

“And didn’t wait for it.” There was reproach in Sanders voice, and they both knew why. “The taser?”

“I found it next to him.” Arthur nodded to the guard. Sanders looked between them, his eyes wary.

“…No more unauthorised weapons.”

Arthur looked at him levelly and nodded. A pause followed. Sanders eyed him with a sternness Arthur felt wasn’t really deserved.

“I got the guy.” He threw his defence out there.

“One of them, at least.” Sanders voice had an edge, but after a moment he unravelled the tension with a tight smile. “Good work detective.”

Arthur relaxed his shoulders a little. He had skirted the line, true, but it seemed like the chief wouldn’t hold it against him. Because of his involvement or despite it, the case was his.

“Go home, rest a little. It’s still a few hours before your shift starts.”

Arthur wasn’t tired, but he wasn’t about to argue. He had a long day ahead and could do with breakfast and a shower. It felt like eons since he first stepped out for a walk, wanting nothing but to clear his head. Here he was hours later, his head buzzing with a million questions. As Arthur walked home, one buzzed louder than the rest.

Who was that man?


	6. The Big Spell

_Drip drip drip drip drip dr-_

It was always there in the background now, although every so often the rhythm would change, and Isabelle would notice it all over again. Oh, how it irritated her.

The winter had gotten worse, and all the quilted blankets piled atop her couldn’t keep the ice from Isabelle’s hands. When she peeked her frozen nose out from the covers she could see frost on every surface, and feel the chill wind blowing in through the smashed windows. Up until now Mummy had let her stay in her room most of the time, helping her twist wires and paint the walls with bloody runes. This had stopped these two days ago, and she’d been sent back downstairs.

The finishing touches of the spell were very sensitive, she told her. Mummy couldn’t have any distractions while she finished it.

Suddenly a blood-curdling scream echoed through the house, and Isabelle sat bolt upright. Before she could react, the scream stopped and her Mummy called sweetly down the stairs.

“Isabelle… come here please…”

Trying to control her panicked breathing, Isabelle tread carefully through the house. Was Mummy okay? It sounded like her screaming but then… she sounded fine now…

Relief flooded Isabelle’s veins as she caught sight of her mother, sitting at the top of the stairs, her serene grin glinting in the dim light. As Isabelle approached she couldn’t help but notice the metallic smell, her slick and greasy hair, the way her dress clung damply to her. She had been wearing the same one since Isabelle last saw her. Her belly, now huge and round, bulged from it, and atop it Mummy rest a large book.

Her smile beckoned Isabelle, and she sat next to her on the top step, basking in the heat from the closed door behind them. She tentatively reached out and stroked the old book cover, tracing the embellished ‘M’ on it’s cover.

“This is Morgana’s.” Her Mummy hummed. “We’re returning it to her!”

She opened it, and Isabelle’s eyes drank in the beautiful writing, the diagrams and illustrations and rich energy that dripped from it like burnt caramel. It was the power she’d felt building on Mummy for some time now, this was it’s source. If this book was why Mummy had changed, then Isabelle understood, because she would drown in this energy if she could.

“There’s a beautiful lake around the Isle of the Blessed. It’s where we need to go to complete the spell and bring Morgana back.” She sighed warmly. “In we’ll go, and out will come Morgana! You’ll give this to her won’t you dear?”

Isabelle’s brow crinkled as her Mummy slammed the book shut and pushed it into her arms.

“The book will stay dry.” She smiled. “It’s magic! It has been passed down from witch to witch for hundreds of years, kept safe in our coven. Whenever it has been stolen, we have fought and killed to rightfully reclaim it!” She playfully poked Isabelle, who giggled and returned her mother’s smile, wrapping her arms around the book as she did so.

Her mother turned pensive. “When you emerge, you must run with Morgana, run far away from the lake. Tell no one you were there, for he will be listening.”

Isabelle was confused. Who? And where would Mummy be?

“Tell no one of Morgana’s true destiny. Merlin is listening, and if he discovers her he will come and kill you both.”

Isabelle recoiled at the sound of his name; she’d heard many tales of the monster Merlin.

“But you’ll protect us, won’t you?”

Isabelle’s was answered by a dreamy smile, and she wondered if her Mummy had heard her. “Our family forgot what true witchcraft was for a long time, but I found the righteous path again, with the help of this book. I’ve done what no witch dreamed of doing.”

Her eyes lifted up to the door behind her, and as she stood Isabelle noticed a trickle of blood run down her leg. She opened the door and beckoned her daughter in.

The runes were complete, and all around them colours swirled. Wires danced in a labyrinth of patterns, candles blazed, carved bones hung from the ceiling and in the centre of it all the mirror lay with a pool of blood atop it.

Her Mummy lowered herself onto it, sitting lengthways before tugging Isabelle down into her arms. Isabelle slipped a little as she sat in the blood, but her Mummy cradled her tightly. Isabelle could feel her shaking.

“Hold on tightly.” She pat the book in Isabelle’s arms. “And when you see Morgana, grab her and don’t let go.”

These words whispered in her ear bounced around Isabelle’s head, but before she could truly contemplate them a new whispering filled the room, an incantation that started in her Mummy’s throat and filled the room, getting louder and deeper and more complex. Candles flared up and metal began to glow, the walls seem to twist and melt, and around their ankles water rose up from beneath the blood, spilling out and flooding the room. All while the two of them sank into the mirror. Isabelle squirmed, frightened, but her Mummy held her like a viper as they sank down into the water. Isabelle held her breath as it rose around her mouth, and above her head another blood-curdling scream ripped out of her mother.

Suddenly her arms sprung free, and Isabelle floated off into darkness. She thrashed around, trying to find her mother in the expanse, but she couldn’t see and couldn’t hear. The book was heavy under her arm, then with an outstretched hand she felt a small form adrift in the emptiness.

Morgana.

The little baby squirmed as Isabelle grabbed her, struggling between her and the book. Both began to slip from her grasp, and frantically Isabelle dropped the book and held tightly to her sister. As it sank past her feet Isabelle realised there was a glimmer of moonlight above her, so kicked her way up, lungs burning, heart racing. She broke the surface, rasping in a breath, and immediately her head went under again as she held the baby up above her, desperately holding her to the air. As she turned her face up she heard a soft cry through her waterlogged ears, and breathed a ragged sigh of relief.

Isabelle somehow made it to the shore, struggling to keep the baby aloft all the while and raking in watery breaths when she could. By the time she crawled out onto the rocky sand she was coughing fitfully, her nose and throat rough from the dirty water. Isabelle held Morgana tightly and looked out over the still lake. It glared in the moonlight, and in it’s centre Isabelle could see a little island of ruins. The Isle of the Blessed.

Barefoot and soaked, huddled on the shore, Isabelle sobbed. The water was so still. Her Mummy had known she was leaving Isabelle alone.

_Not alone._ She reminded herself. For in her arms was her baby sister, Morgana, the greatest witch who would ever live.

Isabelle needed to protect her. Her Mummy had told her how. They needed to leave here, to run from here, before the evil Merlin could find them.

Behind her a forest stretched out. Isabelle gathered Morgana and wrapped her soaked cardigan around her before staggering to her feet. She hesitated for a moment, looking back at the lake. She’d dropped the book. Mummy had told her to keep it safe and she’d dropped it into the lake’s depths, and now Morgana could not claim what was rightfully hers.

The little form squirmed against Isabelle’s chest and gurgled. She sniffled and held her tightly.

“I’m sorry, Morgana.”

They would have to forget the book now. Getting to safety was more important. Isabelle took a step forward, and then another, and then more and more until she was running as well as she was able, her feet numb against the cold forest floor.

Isabelle wondered if she would ever stop running.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay okay, this is the last bit of build up, next week is the conversation you've all been waiting for!


	7. Cops and Robbers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I have never been arrested. I have never been to Bristol. If you have been arrested in Bristol then you will likely spot some inaccuracies in this story. My apologies to Bristol's criminal underbelly, hope you can still enjoy this!

“I cant lose him! He’s my friend!”

“Though no man, no matter how great, can know his destiny… some lives have been foretold, Merlin. Arthur is not just a king- he is the once and future king. Take heart, for when Albion’s need is greatest, Arthur will rise again.”

The great dragon slipped from Merlin’s vision, leaving him alone in the darkness cradling Arthur’s cold body. Strange, his skin was less sallow than Merlin remembered. And his chainmail gone, in it’s place a simple t-shirt and jacket. Merlin frowned. Arthur’s sword was missing, instead his lifeless hand grasped a taser. No not lifeless! The king’s finger squeezed the trigger. Merlin lifted the mess of wires trailing out of the thing and found they connected to his own chest.

As confusion settled on the warlock’s face, he lifted his head to find he was now standing in a room, arms empty. Arthur stood facing him, taser pointed at his chest, his face contorted in a shout. Sparks rained down around them, falling in slow motion. The wire stretched between them flashed slowly on the edge of Merlin’s vision, but didn’t distract his eyes from their focus point. Arthur was there in front of him, frozen in a yell, so very alive.

Arthur was alive.

Time sped up again and the image before Merlin melted into coloured blotches on the back of his eyelids. He snapped his eyes open and bolted upright, tumbling off a thin waterproof mattress onto hard concrete floor.

_Arthur’s back!_

The pain of the impact hummed through his kneecaps.

_Ow._

Merlin scrambled to his feet. He was standing in the centre of a jail cell. _Ah._ The burglary. The body. The being caught at a crime scene and tasered by a policeman.

_Arthur_ the policeman. Merlin’s mind raced. Arthur’s a policeman? Arthur has returned as foretold since prophecies began and… he’s a policeman? In Bristol?

_He doesn’t remember me_. Merlin realised, his heart sinking. Well obviously, or he wouldn’t have… And he must not remember himself. You can’t just wake up in a lake and become a policeman, no, Arthur had been back for quite some time. He must have grown up in this time, had a whole second life here.

Merlin had missed it all. Arthur had been back for decades and he’d lived on oblivious, holed up in his cottage ignoring the world. Now Albion’s hour of need was upon them and Merlin was woefully unprepared, and Arthur didn’t even know who he was! And there was this whole mess… How was Merlin supposed to battle evil from a cell? How could he help Arthur save the world when the man believed him a criminal, a murderer?

Merlin raised his palm and summoned a few sparks. The magic didn’t take as much of a toll on him as before, but it was still more tiring than it should be, and the result was underwhelming. A small ache appeared in Merlin’s temple as he realised his escape would not be easy. For the time being he was stuck here.

Stuck here with a certain policeman.

“HELLO?” Merlin banged on his cell door. “Helloooooo-“

“You’re awake.” The eye-level slot in his door slid open, and a uniformed policewoman surveyed him with cold eyes.

“I’m awake.” He shot her a disarming grin. She remained armed. “I’d like to speak to Arthur.”

“Arthur?”

“The policeman who arrested me?” doubt crept into Merlin’s voice. Was his name still Arthur in this second life? Merlin hoped so.

The woman raised her eyebrow. “Detective King will interview you once we’ve processed you and contacted the public defenders office-“

“Oh, no need, I don’t need a lawyer, I just want to speak to Arthu- Detective King, please.” No need to waste a lawyer’s time, he wouldn’t see a court. Also, ‘Arthur King’? Merlin fought to contain a smirk, which earnt him a funny look from his captor.

“Do you know him?”

“I hope to!” Merlin said enigmatically. The woman responded with another disdainful look, then slid the slot closed and opened the cell door. A loud buzzer sounded as it opened, making Merlin wince.

“Hold out your hands.” She said, retrieving a pair of handcuffs from her belt. “We’ll skip the lawyer but you still need processing.”

“Processing?” Merlin twitched as the cold metal closed around his wrists.

“Fingerprints, photo, name and address, national insurance number, emergency contacts…”

Merlin’s expression darkened as her list grew longer. It had been a while since he’d been arrested- when did it get so complicated? The wizard sighed.

This breakout was going to be very difficult.

* * *

Arthur was just about to head out the door when he got a text from his workmate.

‘Heard about what happened! Crazy! There’s some evidence on your desk- a stolen ID we found on your guy, belongs to a Marvin Emerit. He lives near you, if you want to check it out.’

A picture of an old man’s ID soon followed, featuring an address that caught Arthur by surprise. That was by the park, just a couple of minutes from his flat… but the address didn’t look at all familiar. Arthur frowned and grabbed his car keys.

The local park was bordered by a long stone wall with an archway at it’s centre. Arthur followed his phone’s directions along the wall, driving slowly to keep his eye out for this lane he’d never seen before. When he approached the red dot marked on his phone Arthur did a double take. There, set into the corner of the wall, was a slim walkway bordered by stone. The only indication this was the right address besides it’s postcode was the title above it: ‘1 Warlock Way’. Strange symbols were carved all around it’s edges, and a rhyme curved along it’s archway.

‘Look To Find or Pay No Mind.’

Arthur frowned before shaking his head, bemused at the nonsensical words. He parked his car on the opposite side of the road and walked over to inspect. Arthur had walked past here a thousand times and never once seen this strange little path. It was only a few metres long, and empty except for a huge, ornately carved, stone mailbox at the end. Arthur had never seen one like it, but it definitely wasn’t a residence and shouldn’t be legally registered as such. In fact, it was hardly a functioning mailbox- there was a slot but no door beneath it, no way to actually access anything put in it. He lifted the flap and shone his torch inside. It appeared to be a large hollow stone, with no opening on the other side to retrieve mail either. Arthur couldn’t quite see the bottom, but it seemed empty.

He got out his phone and took a closer look at the ID. Maybe he was thinking this about everyone lately, but there was something familiar about the old man. He shook his head and focused on the address. Definitely here, which meant this ID was invalid. What does such an old man need a fake ID for? He would need to ask his friend in cybercrimes to take a closer look at this.

Another text came through as Arthur stared at his phone.

‘Your guys awake- won’t tell us his name.’

Arthur felt a strange flitter in his stomach. He wasn’t usually so excited to talk to criminals, but most didn’t mysteriously know his name when they shouldn’t. Would Arthur finally get some answers, or would he be met with the same evasiveness shown to his colleagues? 

After one last futile look at the letterbox, Arthur turned away and put a pin in this odd place. Marvin Emerit could wait... Arthur had a suspect to interrogate.

* * *

Merlin’s hands were cuffed and chained to the interrogation table. _A bit overkill,_ he thought, _but to be fair they do think I’ve killed someone._ And he’d just spent the last half an hour being somewhat uncooperative. Still, he hardly came off as intimidating.

Even though Merlin knew he was in _a lot_ of trouble, it was hard to focus on that when he’d just seen his best friend for the first time in a thousand years. A thousand years! A thousand years and not one peep from destiny, no sign of Arthurs return, no danger great enough for him to rise despite every horrible thing in history, and now… Now he turns up. In Bristol.

Now that the pure shock had worn off some, Merlin had to admit this was a bit bizarre. Well the opposite of bizarre really, mundane. He’d been on many quests over the years, many long missions in far off lands, many battlefields where he’d envisioned Arthur appearing to save the day, shrouded in a heavenly glow, Excalibur in hand. He would solve whatever problem there was to solve, turn around with a smile, and embrace Merlin like a brother- like a brother he hadn’t seen in a thousand years!

And then open his mouth and scream “FREEZE, POLICE!”.

Talk about the anti-climax of the millennia.

_Oh my god._ Merlin thought. _He’s arrested me again_ -

_Click._

The door opened and in he stepped.

“Arthur!” Merlin jerked up from his seat with a rattle, his chains stopping him abruptly so that he stood awkwardly hunched towards the table, his wrists tethered to it’s centre. His attention stayed fixed on the man before him.

Merlin had seen look-alikes before, but no-one so exact in looks or aura. He had never felt such a surge of familiarity for anyone. This was undoubtedly Arthur Pendragon, King of Albion. His best friend.

“Do I know you?”

Arthur spoke with an air of annoyance that knocked Merlin back in time. It was a tone of voice he recognised from when they first met, when they didn’t know each other, didn’t even like each other.

He really doesn’t remember.

“I had the strangest feeling I’ve arrested you before, but I wracked my brain, and I’m sure I haven’t.” Arthur filled the silence as he moved to sit down, ignoring Merlin’s pale expression. “You definitely seem to know me though, so where from? Uni? Sixth form?”

All this time Merlin’s face had remained shocked, and now Arthur was looking at him like he doubted his mental capacity. Merlin forced the gears in his brain back into motion. “Even earlier actually.”

“Ah.” Arthur seemed pleased to at least have a response. “Well I’m afraid I don’t remember everyone from school. A name might help?”

“Merlin.” He replied, surprising himself. It had been a long time since he’d given anyone his real name.

Arthur raised his eyebrow. “Merlin?”

“Merlin.”

“Funny.” Arthur smiled, unamused. “It’s not very original, you know.”

“What?”

“Lot of dealers go by ‘Merlin’.” He shrugged.

_Oh of course!_ Sometimes he forgot he was famous. “My name really is Merlin.” He smiled.

Arthur gave an unconvinced nod. “Okay then, you can be for now. It doesn’t matter, we’ll find out the truth in the end, but I should warn you- things will go easier if you just tell us everything now.”

_Shit_.

For a moment Merlin forgot he was a murder suspect.

“I didn’t kill that man.”

“Man?” Arthur narrowed his eyes at him. “Don’t you mean ‘men’?

Merlin paled. “There were other victims?”

Arthur eyed him for a moment. “Yes. Another guard.”

The King- detective- kept a sharp eye on him as Merlin’s stomach churned. Who had done this? And were they there for the same reason as Merlin?

“Did they take the book? Whoever did this, I mean?” Merlin felt his face heat as Arthur raised his eyebrows- he supposed he’d just admitted why he was there.

“Book?”

So he didn’t know. This could be a good sign, or it could just mean the security firm had yet to complete an inventory. As Arthur’s eyes drilled into Merlin, he realised there was no point in lying to him now. In the past Merlin had lied for the good of Camelot, but because of that he’d hardly spent any time living honestly while Arthur was alive. He had always tried to protect their friendship, but now his old friend’s opinion could hardly fall further. Merlin took a deep breath. This time around he’d be honest with Arthur.

“I went there last night to steal an old spell book. I broke in through the back and didn’t see anyone until I got upstairs, where I found that poor guard dead, and then… well, you remember.”

“Wow! Wow.” Arthur’s eyes were wide with surprise. He clearly wasn’t used to getting such candid confessions. “So, you’re telling me the reason you didn’t kill the guards is because someone else got there first?”

“No! No, I wasn’t going to kill anyone, I wouldn’t do that.”

“You were just robbing the place?”

“Yes.”

Arthur’s face twisted with scepticism. Merlin shifted uncomfortably.

“Isn’t there some security footage of me _not_ killing anyone?”

“No, because _somebody_ ,” He looked pointedly at Merlin. “destroyed the tapes.”

“Ah.”

This was looking less and less good for Merlin, and he found himself at a loss of what to say. Arthur scowled at him expectantly, crossing his arms when he realised there was no confession forthcoming.

“I suppose when we find this other robber, that you have no affiliation with, we can send him to jail for life and give you a slap on the wrists for trespassing?”

Merlin could tell this wasn’t going well. After all this time, Merlin had forgotten how pompous Arthur sounded when he thought he was right. Merlin closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them he fixed firmly onto the man opposite, searching for some glimmer of trust behind those eyes.

“Arthur, I’m not going to lie to you. Whoever did this… they’re dangerous. Maybe worse than anything we’ve seen before. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that this happened on the same night we met again. I’m going to find them, and then we need to face them together, and for that… I need you to remember me. I need you to try and remember me.”

Arthur’s eyes showed nothing but bemusement.

“If I say I remember you, will cut the bullshit?”

Merlin huffed and flumped back in his chair.

“Well don’t get upset!” Though he tried to cover it Arthur voice betrayed some amusement, though no hint of recognition. “I’m taking this all very seriously I swear! Please, tell me more about your nefarious friend. Or tell me your name at least, so I’ll remember you, and we can...” He couldn’t help but smirk. “Face this thing together.”

This was not the conversation Merlin had waited a thousand years for.

“You really are a prat you know.”

“You can hardly talk.”

A grin split Merlin’s face. Arthur looked surprised at himself. He straightened his back a little, like he was trying to look more proper, and steadied his expression. This was still an interrogation.

“So, by your own admission you were attempting to steal from Renton Security… and it seems you have already stolen from a Mr. Marvin Emerit.”

Arthur took out a piece of paper from his folder and spun it round for Merlin to see. Staring up at him was his own face, his own old, wrinkled face on a picture of his driving license. Ah yes, the police had taken his wallet, containing the ID of his previous self. God, he really picked a bad time to de-age.

“That’s complicated actually.”

“Well then uncomplicate it for me. I mean we’re in this together, right?”

Arthur wasn’t on the edge of laughter anymore, but he was clearly still humouring Merlin, and no doubt thought he was a crazy. Merlin slumped forward and rested his forehead in his palms. It was amazing talking to Arthur again, but the fact he was a cop really complicated the matter. Merlin wanted to tell the truth, but revealing his magic here would cause chaos, and there was likely at least one other person listening in on this conversation. It’s also a lot to shock Arthur with all at once, the fact that he really is the legendary King Arthur, reincarnated to fight great evil, and oh, magic is real too by the way!

Complicating things further was the more pressing matter of Morgana’s spell book, and the trail of bodies following whoever stole it. They could well be the great threat Arthur was here for. Merlin needed to find them quickly, and sitting around watching baffled policemen (even reincarnated king policemen) try to piece it together was a waste of time.

Luckily Merlin knew some magic words that would end the interrogation instantly.

“I want a lawyer.”

A wary look passed over Arthur’s face- he’d been expecting this.

“Well, this was an interesting conversation while it lasted.” He rose from his seat, all business now. “We’ll contact the public defender’s office, they’ll send someone along in a few hours. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy your cell.”

“Arthur?”

He paused in the doorframe. Merlin cracked out a smile.

“I promise it’ll be even more interesting next time!”

Arthur narrowed his eyes, but the corners of his mouth twitched up.

“See you around. ‘ _Mer_ lin’.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a little breakthrough with the plot today, so as celebration I'm posting this chapter early! This is the first chapter I wrote for this fic. My original inspiration is a gif someone created on tumblr years ago of these two in different cop shows edited together to look like an interrogation, which for whatever reason lodged in my brain. I have no idea who made it, but if that rings a bell with anyone please let me know, I'd love to tell the creator they inspired me to make a bloody novel length fic years after seeing their gif.


	8. The Attorney

Back in his cell, Merlin had time to ruminate on his current predicament. He was in jail. He needed to escape. Sounds so easy on paper, but right now Merlin’s magic was still drained from his metamorphosis, so big displays of magic were still off limits. Not only that but he also needed to delete all images of him being there, or the police would plaster his face all over the news and his life would become very difficult. Or even more so. Fortunately during processing he found out that his mugshot wouldn’t be released to the media until he was formally charged, and it seemed the police were delaying that so they could build evidence for multiple charges. This gave him a little time, although it was up to Arthur how much.

Oh, and even more difficult, he needed to find this bloody book! And the murdering thief who took it. And figure out why they took it, and where, and what for. Merlin was drawing blanks right now.

Merlin stood up with a sigh. _Okay, escape first._

So, the cell. The cell didn’t have a lot to offer. It was a slim rectangle with a steel, deadbolted door at one end, and a small window with security glass at the other. The bed along the side of the cell had a steel frame fixed to the wall, a thin waterproof mattress and a single small polyester blanket atop it. There was a metal toilet in the corner, close to the head of the bed, and a security camera on the ceiling above this facing the rest of the cell. Hm.

Merlin went and sat on the toilet. It was uncomfortable, but at least it was out of sight.

Now it was time to exert a smidgen of magic- Merlin’s eyes glazed over gold, he looked at the door, let his eyes swim out of focus, and then refocused on what was _behind_ the door. His immediate opposite was an empty cell, on his right was a wall, then to his left he could see six more cells along a corridor, three on each side. All locked shut, so Merlin assumed they were occupied. After this the corridor turned away from him, so with another little refocus his gaze swung around the corner.

He knew what it looked like from being marched down it of course, but it was nice to look in more detail. After a short length (the length of the cell opposite,) the corridor had a counter set into the right-hand wall, with a guard sitting on duty and a record room stretching behind him. There was a sign-in sheet in front of the guard, listing who was in what cell, when prisoners were checked in and out, by who and where they were taken. Merlin could see his own name “John Doe” down most recently, from when he was taken for interrogation. There were six other prisoners noted. Inside the record room Merlin quickly spotted a screen showing the camera feeds of all the cells, and a shift schedule pinned to a corkboard at the side. He made a mental note to come back to this.

Opposite this room was an archway opening onto a spacious waiting area, with the main entrance at the opposite end next to the staircase and another corridor bending around, joining back onto the waiting area closer to the cells. Merlin already knew the processing room and interrogation room were along this corridor, and he soon found the evidence room along there as well.

Letting his eyes drift upstairs, he found an open plan with clusters of desks. Arthur sat at one of them filling out paperwork, for Merlin no doubt. Merlin zoomed in, and sure enough he could see a small picture of his own face in the top corner of the form. Yet another thing he needed to take before his escape.

“How’s it going then?”

_Not good,_ Merlin thought. Arthur looked up at his co-worker, a portly middle-aged man holding a mug of tea. He sighed dramatically and flapped his file against the table.

“Nothing from the prints, nothing from facial recognition, no digital footprint. By all means the man doesn’t exist. In fact,” Arthur leaned in conspiratorially. “He might not even be human.”

Merlin blanched. Now that was a bit far!

“Oh yeah?” The man raised an eyebrow. “And why’s that?”

“Sent a DNA sample up the road.” Arthur tapped his file with an outraged finger. “Broke their machine!”

His friend smirked. “Sure it didn’t just break?”

“Hm!” Arthur shrugged. “This isn’t coming from me, they blamed the sample, said the machine worked fine on everything else but it won’t read _his._ Or gives funny results or something.”

Oh, yeah, Merlin knew about this. When DNA testing first came out he had a biologist friend, so tried it out of curiosity. His results came out all squiggly. His friend blamed the tools, Merlin suspected it had something to do with magic, or being over a thousand years old, or some combination of the two. God knows what it did to the high-tech machine ‘up the road’.

“They’re being dramatic.” The detective rolled his eyes. “Hopefully they’ll get it working again soon. Any luck with the old man?”

Arthur perked up in his chair, clearly excited to share something. Merlin frowned.

“Now the old man is interesting! He also isn’t human.” Arthur grinned.

“The invasion is truly upon us!”

Arthur nodded smugly. “Phil. How old would you say this man is?” He held up a picture of Merlin’s ‘Emerit’ driving license. He looked younger in it than he had a couple of weeks ago.

“Er… 70…” Phil squinted at the picture. “92 actually! Blimey, surprised he’s still allowed on the road. It’s a driving license you dope, it says his date of bir-“

“It’s a fake.” Arthur interrupted. “Guess what his real date of birth is?”

Merlin held his breath- now this would be interesting. Phil didn’t say anything, just shook his head to say ‘Go on’.

“ _Eighteen_ sixty-nine.” Arthur kept talking with a smile as Phil cracked up. “He was 66 when he first registered for a license in 1935.”

Merlin balked. How the hell did he-?

“What kind of hellish rabbit hole have you jumped down?” Phil asked, still chucking.

“So, in 1971 license records were digitised,” Arthur started, showing a kind of nerdy enthusiasm that Merlin found totally alien. “That is the first time Marvin enters existence at age 47; besides his driver’s license he has no birth certificate, no national insurance number, nothing, all the personal information in his license record is fake. Now you would think something like this would get flagged eventually, but every year, on the dot, his date of issue changes in the system. It slides forward, making it look like he always got his license 2 years ago. This means it’s never been renewed. Human eyes haven’t seen it since 1971, at which point it was already valid. If no one ever looked closely at it, which no one has until now, then it would have never been caught.”

“But you spotted it?” Phil asked, like that was the most bizarre part of the story.

Arthur gave him a shrewd look. “Lee in IT caught it when he was inspecting the license’s digital history. Poor guy’s still pulling his hair out over it, because apparently the code wrapped around this thing is ‘impossible’ and ‘borderline witchcraft’.”

It was 100% witchcraft and not something Merlin realised would show up in the license history. Damn. He’d only wanted to stay off the grid. With computers Merlin generally just _willed_ what he wanted to happen into the code, he didn’t really know what to do to make it look normal.

“Okay… that’s weird.” Phil’s face was a picture of confusion. “But where did you get 1869 from?”

Arthur held his finger up in an ‘a-ha’ pose.

“Now this one I spotted! As far as we know Marvin Emerit came into existence alongside computer records, but I searched the archives of scanned paper records, and Marvin’s ID number matches a Mr Gaius Oldman, born 1869, originally registered for a license in 1935 at the age of 66. His ID stayed valid until the 70s, when his name changed to Marvin Emerit in the new system.

God, Merlin didn’t realise they’d _scanned_ those old records. Technology really did make his life difficult sometimes. It was simple enough to physically change his ID with magic, but it was useful to be valid in the system too. It wasn’t easy navigating the national database in the 70’s, implanting a spell around all the formulas and error-checks, but it was a working solution. Arthur was right, the idea was to have just enough there to not be suspicious at a glance, to have a working ID without all the fuss and traceability of being on the grid. Merlin never considered how strange the record’s code would look, because he took steps to make sure no one ever needed to look at it. He’d never gotten this far with being arrested before, since he’d never had the bad luck to get arrested right after de-aging.

“So you’re saying the world’s oldest man, by the name of Oldman, hacked into the national police database in the 70’s and used advanced coding and possibly witchcraft to change his name and avoid renewing his license?” Phil found his own assessment quite funny; Merlin, on the other hand, thought that just about summed it up.

Arthur shook his head frustratedly. “Obviously there’s some kind of fraud happening, I just, I can’t see any kind of reason or logic to it. And it started with Oldman, he’s also a ghost, same as Emerit. Whatever’s going on here has been going on for a very long time.”

_A longer time than you can imagine, Sire._ Merlin frowned. Arthur was a lot better at spotting clues in this lifetime than in his last. What else was different about him?

“You know who else is a ghost? Your man downstairs.” Phil looked pointedly at Arthur.

Arthur nodded thoughtfully. “So maybe he didn’t steal the wallet. He’s part of whatever this is.”

“And your best lead so far.”

Arthur sighed. “My best leads got a screw or two loose. But the lawyer should be here soon, I can have another crack at him.”

“He liked you right?”

Arthur frowned slightly, a distant look in his eye. “He recognised me.”

Phil raised his eyebrow. “And you’ve never seen him before?”

Arthur paused before answering. “Not that I remember, but… there’s something familiar about him.”

“Well, better remember him soon.” Phil sighed. He turned to leave, but glanced back mischievously before he did. “Oh, and I hope they send your favourite lawyer!”

Arthur scowled at him. “Go make me some tea.” He chided, hunching over his files and pointedly ignoring Phil’s smirk.

Merlin felt an ache in his chest. Here was Arthur bantering with his co-worker, all the while he had no idea who Merlin was. Trying to suppress his sadness, Merlin tore his eyes away. Moving on Merlin looked through the rooms around the edge of this open plan, all offices and meeting rooms, until finally the holy grail- the security room, manned by a single policeman barely watching the camera feeds in front of him. Merlin saw the feed for his own cell, featuring his legs sticking out from the bottom corner. Merlin stuck out a hand and waved at himself.

To the left of this room was a door labelled Cybercrimes, and through the window Merlin could see a man silhouetted by the glow of multiple computer screens. This was probably the man who spotted Merlin’s driving license tampering. At some point Merlin would need to scrub his magic code from the system, just another task on his list. This was going to be a busy prison break.

Before he could peek more closely at the cybercrimes setup, a buzzer rang out in Merlin’s ear. He snapped his vision back to his cell in time to see his door opened by the policewoman from earlier; Officer Pendleton. He smiled at her, earning himself an icy look. She hadn’t been entertained by his refusal to cooperate this morning. Not that she’d been warm to him before, but well, the disdain felt more personal now. Merlin felt a little guilty, and so tried to be as polite and well behaved as possible as she bustled him over to the interrogation room. He was grateful they left the handcuffs off him this time- they must have decided he wasn’t so scary after all.

Even though he hadn’t been told what was going on, Merlin suspected his lawyer was on the way. It seems Merlin had a minute though, so to take advantage of the time he decided to carry on snooping. He rested his head down on his forearm so his golden eyes wouldn’t be visible, then let his vision drift up and through the two-way mirror before him. There was no one in the room, as there shouldn’t be for a meeting with his lawyer. After a moment of gazing around Merlin saw an audio recorder that would have undoubtedly recorded the meeting between him and Arthur. Not essential for him to scrub his existence from, but if he had time it was best to leave as little trace as possible.

“… and could you please bring some food and water to his cell.”

Merlin’s focus snapped round. The door to the viewing room was open a crack, and from the corridor drifted an angel’s voice. Could it be? Was Merlin dreaming?

The creak of a door handled sounded back in the interrogation room, the door right next to this one, meaning-

“Mr. Merlin?”

Merlin jumped his eyes back to the interrogation room and lifted his head, looking as though he’d just jerked awake. She smiled politely.

“Hello Merlin, my name is Guinevere Queen, I’m your attorney.”

“Ha!”

The laugh just bubbled out of Merlin, he couldn’t help it. It was really her, it was Gwen.

Fantastic!

They were both back, King and Queen of Camelot! All this time Merlin had been waiting for one friend, and now here were two at once, like buses! Here was the woman who ruled over the greatest age of peace in Albion, standing in front of him in a sensible blazer and glasses, looking utterly perplexed at the giggling madman in front of her. Merlin supressed his giggles into a grin and stood, leaning over the table with his hand out.

“Nice to meet you Gwen!”

She gave him her hand tentatively and he gave it a big shake. Definitely real.

“Nice to meet you.” She answered with a raised eyebrow, definitely thinking he was mad. She sat down and rifled open her file, getting a pen out her pocket to take notes. “So Merlin, the detective on your case has informed me you-“

“You mean Arthur?”

“Detective King, yes. He tells me-”

“What do you think of him?” Merlin grinned at her.

Gwen crinkled her brow, no doubt confused as to why Merlin would ask such a thing. “I think he’s quite determined to see you behind bars.”

He laughed lightly. Merlin could see a touch of colour in her cheeks and felt sure she had other thoughts about Arthur.

“Well, here I am!” Merlin gestured around him with a grin.

Gwen didn’t seem amused. She put down her pen and took off her glasses before fixing him with a serious stare.

“Merlin, I must say I’m surprised at how lightly you’re taking all of this. As it stands you could be facing serious jailtime, and no judge will like fact you haven’t cooperated with the police, haven’t even given them your real name.”

“Merlin is my real name!”

“Is that so?” She didn’t sound convinced.

“Truly.” Merlin side-eyed her. “Is your name really Guinevere Queen?”

“I… yes, of course.” she said, a little taken aback.

“Well don’t you think that’s strange? Arthur King and Guinevere Queen?”

“Oh. That’s…” Gwen nodded her head frustratedly. “That’s what you were laughing at. Well yes, sure, I suppose it’s a funny coincidence, our parents must have a similar sense of humour-“

“Maybe it’s destiny that has a sense of humour.” Merlin’s eyes twinkled.

“Merlin. I really think we should focus on you here. Can we talk about last night?”

Merlin sighed, remembering the seriousness of the situation. Sure, he was seeing his friends again for the first time in over a millennia, but his friends thought he was a murderer.

“I didn’t kill anyone.”

“Then help me convince them of that.” Gwen gestured to the door and looked imploringly at him. Despite the cool lawyer front, she was still just as kind as she had been all those years ago, Merlin could see it in her eyes. He saw his friend staring back at him. After a moment she blinked and crinkled her brow once again.

“Have we…” She trailed off, then with a little shake of her head broke eye contact. Glasses back on, pen in hand, she looked down at her file. “On May the 15th you were-“

“Have we met before?” Merlin finished her abandoned sentence.

Gwen’s eyes flicked up.

“We have.” Merlin smiled at her, trying to catch her eyes again, though they seemed a little wary now.

“No, sorry. How? When?” She shook her head in confused denial, but it was there, that familiarity. Just like it had been with Arthur.

“Oh, not in this lifetime.” Merlin said slyly.

She huffed in frustration, catching on. “Right, we met in Camelot I suppose.”

She was still quick-witted. Merlin cracked a wide grin, one contagious enough that she almost, _almost_ smiled. Instead she shook her head and looked back to her file. As she traced through the information, a thought occurred to Merlin.

“You were found with the wallet of a Mr. Marvin Emerit-“

“Do you have a brother, Gwen?”

Gwen paused and looked up, eyes sharpened. Oh, this could be interesting. Merlin asked on the off chance, but was it possible…?

“I don’t see how that’s relevant here-“

“Gwen and Arthur…” Merlin mused. “Old-fashioned names, sure, but not odd in this time. Elyan on the other hand…”

Gwen’s eyes widened in surprise, and she leaned back slightly. Merlin couldn’t believe it…

“How do you know me, Merlin?” Gwen’s tone was sharp in a way it hadn’t been before. “Do you know Elyan?”

Merlin smiled, dumbfounded. “Everyone’s coming back…”

It was all of them, it must be, they were all back. If Elyan was around then surely the other knights of the round table would be too, all his friends! But why? And how far did this go? Would Gaius be back too? Uther?

Merlin paled at a thought.

Surely not…

“Merlin? Merlin!”

Merlin sat bolt upright. “Oh God, I need to get out of here… Gwen… what if Morgana’s back too?”

Gwen looked at Merlin with worry, though hers clearly wasn’t to do with Morgana.

“Merlin, do you really think you’re… _the_ Merlin?”

He really didn’t have time to convince her, and he couldn’t here anyway. As lovely as it was seeing Gwen again, this Morgana theory couldn’t wait, Merlin needed to get out of here now and figure out what was going on. Could it be her who stole the book?

“Gwen, there will come a time for convincing you of the truth, for magic and memories, but now isn’t it. I need to go back to my cell now, can we call it a day?”

He looked imploringly at her, though she seemed unconvinced and still somewhat alarmed at his apparent insanity.

“I really don’t think we’re done here.”

“I am.” Merlin pressed. “I’ll say no more now, but believe me when I say we’ll speak again, and next time will be very different.”

She stared at him for a moment. Did she trust him?

“If you insist then I can’t force you to talk.” The disappointment in her voice broke Merlin’s heart. “But either way you’ll be questioned by Detective King soon, and I can’t help you through that if- “

“Can we push that till later?” Merlin had half an escape plot in his head, but it wouldn’t work if he spent the next few hours trapped in interrogation, he needed more time to plan. Of course Gwen didn’t know this, but was weary of the request all the same.

“If you won’t talk to me then there’s no point in delaying.”

“Oh please, I’m…” Merlin racked his brain. “I’m exhausted! Did you know I got tasered last night? Please just give me a few hours to sleep it off, and then I’ll talk.”

Gwen studied him. He tried to seem tired without being too dramatic. It was a tough sell given how lively he’d been throughout their meeting, but after a moment Gwen sighed and rose from her seat. Now standing, she fixed him with another hard look.

“You promise you’ll tell me the truth next time?”

Merlin smiled softly, taking her question as an agreement to his terms. “More truth than you’ll believe.”

She gathered her folder and turned to leave, glancing warily, but also curiously, at Merlin as she did so.

“Gwen?”

She paused at the door. “Yes?”

“Give Arthur a chance, when he asks for it.”

She knit her brows together. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He smiled. “You will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't check my maths.


	9. Leads and Legalities

Gwen closed the door on what might have been the strangest conversation of her life.

In her time as a criminal defence lawyer Gwen had represented many different people, and she knew how to talk to those anxious, afraid, apathetic, angry, and even obnoxious. But this was something new. Merlin was evasive, uninterested in planning his defence, but he wasn’t apathetic, it wasn’t that he didn’t care. In fact he seemed to cycle through a range of emotions in their meeting, wearing them openly, though Gwen didn’t understand where half of them came from.

And the fascination he had with her… it was meant to be her finding out about him, not the other way around! He’d seen her before, that much was clear. And… she might have seen him. Somewhere. He must be some friend or acquaintance of Elyan, and that’s how he knew his name. She would need to ask her brother about him. Gwen made a mental note to call him as she walked over to the stairs.

Gwen didn’t know what to make of Merlin’s theatrics. Did he really go by ‘Merlin’, or did he make that up to tease Arthur King? He was clearly very into Camelot legends. The strangest part of it all was that he seemed so genuine, as if he believed what he was saying. He laughed at it, sure, but he laughed like someone surprised, not someone cracking up at their own lie.

He definitely seemed worried, really worried, when he mentioned ‘Morgana’. You would think he’d be more concerned about his murder trial than a mythical witch. So did he really believe in all that? Gwen was tempted to call a psychiatrist, but she still knew so little about him, and he didn’t seem a danger to himself.

Well, not an immediate physical danger, but he was certainly endangering his hopes of freedom, and making Gwen’s job harder in the process. They were meant to speak to the detectives this afternoon, and even though Merlin was resistant to the idea Gwen knew they wouldn’t buy his ‘exhaustion’ story. True he had been tasered, a fact Gwen wouldn’t let them forget anytime soon, but he had been cleared by a medic at the scene, and had slept since. All his exhaustion excuse would achieve is wasting the station doctor’s time before the interrogation.

This was frankly a waste of Gwen’s time too. She had a lot to do beyond sitting unprepared through the interrogation, beginning with arranging a courthouse hearing to set bail and have him transferred to a real prison. Though he probably wouldn’t be allowed bail, the way he was acting. God, he really wasn’t helping himself, every minute he spent obstructing the investigation might as well be another month on his sentence.

“Ms Queen!”

_Oh_. While lost in thought Gwen had arrived upstairs, and her hand instinctively worried over her hair as she looked at her caller. She snapped her hand down awkwardly. He accidently knocked a file from his desk as he jumped up to greet her.

“Detective King.” She weaved through the workspace as he scrambled to pick up his file.

“Are you ready for us?“ He was gathering his things, ready to jump into action.

“I’m afraid Merlin has requested to delay the interview.” She tried to sound resolute instead of apologetic, even though she could see what an annoyance this was. “He’s exhausted and needs time to recuperate. He mentioned being tasered.”

King fumed. “He slept for seven hours last night, no way he’s still exhausted!” He practically had steam coming out his nostrils, and Gwen could only assume Merlin had been just as difficult in talking to him.

“Either way, given the weapon’s involvement he’ll need a medical check before we can go ahead.”

King shook his head frustratedly, but seemed resigned to it. Gwen wondered if he regretted using the taser. She’d read the file, she knew the situation had been scary, but she couldn’t imagine being scared of Merlin. Even knowing what he was accused of, he just seemed… harmless.

Gwen went with King to fetch the station doctor. They didn’t talk on the way, though he awkwardly held the door for her at one point. It was always like this when they interacted. They didn’t see each other often, but when they did they were always on opposite sides trying to trip each other up. Quite often Gwen thought he could be obnoxious towards her clients, never giving them the benefit of the doubt. Although sometimes Gwen did have to defend genuinely bad people, and so secretly agreed with him when he was tearing into them. Not that she’d ever tell him.

On this occasion Gwen could understand his frustration. There had been a huge raid last night which had been months in the making, and it was pure bad luck this happened the same night. With that and the latest round of budget cuts, both the police and the public defence office were stretched thin right now, so an obstructive client was the last thing either of them needed.

However frustrated they were, they hid it well when talking to the station doctor. King hid it less well when the doctor came out from Merlin’s cell and told them he was passed out from exhaustion.

“What?!” A few heads in the waiting room turned at King’s exclamation. He stormed into the cell corridor with Gwen close behind.

“He’s genuinely asleep Detective, the doctor would know if he wasn’t. We’ll have to wait.” Gwen tried to sound like the voice of reason, though frankly she was also perplexed. She’d just spoken to him ten minutes ago, he’d been fine! In fact he’d been the exact opposite of exhausted!

Arthur slid open the metal hatch on his cell door, and the two of them peered in. Sure enough Merlin was passed out and snoring; there was even a little pool of drool forming on the waterproof mattress.

Gwen suddenly realised how close their faces were and stepped back.

“See?”

Arthur shook his head and closed the hatch. “As soon as he wakes up we’re interrogating him, okay? I don’t care how late it is.” His tone was venomous.

“Understood.” Gwen responded curtly.

She left quickly after that, conscious that she had a lot to do. As soon as she was outside her mind returned to what had disturbed her most about her talk with Merlin, and so she whipped out her phone. Time to get to the bottom of this.

“Elyan!”

“What?” Her brother’s voice sounded tired, knowing him he’d probably just woken up. Gwen needed to sound serious if she wanted to keep him on the line.

“I need to talk to you, it’s very important. Is now a good time?”

A pause echoed down the telephone. “Not really.”

“This is more important than your beauty sleep.”

“I’m not- I’ve been awake for a bloody long time I’ll have you know!” Elyan sounded unusually irritated, peaking Gwen’s curiosity despite her own urgent business. “Look, everything’s hectic at uni, there was a robbery last night and-“

“Oh!” Gwen burst out. _Oh no_. “Renton Security?”

Elyan was a research assistant at Bristol University. The archaeology department was listed as a claimant for the theft charge, but Elyan was doing his PHd in chemistry, why would he be affected?

“You heard about it?”

“Elyan I’m defending the suspect.”

“What?!”

“So wait, are you involved in this? How are you involved in this?”

“I asked to assist, the Archaeology department needed help determining the book materials and well, I was interested in reading it. Potions are basically early chemistry you know.”

“Potions?”

“You don’t know? They didn’t tell you the stolen artefact was a spell book?”

Gwen’s mouth dropped.

“You’re defending the thief, seems like something you ought to know. Gwen, can you tell me something?”

She gathered her jaw from the floor. “What?”

“Is he a wizard?” Elyan asked with a chuckle.

Maybe he really believed he was, if he had done all this for a spell book.

“I… Elyan he knew your name.” She remembered why she was calling.

“What?”

“He asked if I had a brother and then said your name. He looked familiar Elyan, I think you might know him-“

“What’s his name?”

Gwen caught herself before she said ‘Merlin’. He could have made up this stupid wizard bit on the spot, a joke he’d been waiting for everyone to clue onto. Gwen felt so foolish.

“He won’t give his real name, he keeps telling us it’s Merlin, I suppose now we know why. But you could know him, he’s around our age, pale skin and black hair, quite tall and a bit thin?”

“... I can’t think of anyone like that, but… there was a guy here yesterday. He doesn’t match your description, but he asked to see the book. Said he was a student, but now I’m not so sure, I was actually just on my way to talk to the department head about him.”

Gwen sucked a breath in. “Elyan that sounds important. Like tell-the-police important.”

“Will this be a problem for you?”

Gwen pinched the bridge of her nose. “Maybe.” The words ‘conflict of interest’ flashed in front of her mind. “Maybe not… I think if you got a lawyer then- “

“A lawyer? I haven’t done anything!”

“I know, it’s just for my peace of mind Elyan. I’ll tap a friend to help you with your police statement so your words don’t get twisted- .”

“Do I really need to make a statement?”

Gwen huffed frustratedly. “Elyan, you just told me a man faked being a student to try and see this book, the book was stolen the same night in a violent robbery, and I just heard the suspect caught at the scene say your name.”

A pause followed her summary. Gwen could clearly imagine how panicked he must look right now.

“…How do I get a lawyer?”

Gwen sighed. “I have a few friends in private practice, I’ll call in a favour. In the meantime, try to find out more about this guy, keep checking your phone- I’ll get back to you when I can.”

“Thanks Gwen.”

They said goodbye and that was that. Gwen sighed. Elyan involved in all this was the last thing she needed. Although this could explain why Merlin knew his name- maybe he and this other man had staked out the building and researched the staff. Since the book- _spell book,_ it turns out- was still missing it was more than likely Merlin had a partner in crime. Was Merlin trying to protect him by staying quiet? Maybe these wasted hours were just the time his partner needed to get out of town. Or maybe there was no logic or reason to Merlin’s actions at all. Gwen sighed. The only person who could make sense of this was ridiculously evasive and quite possibly insane.

Was Gwen obstructing the investigation by not sharing this information? She had a duty to her client, but she also had a responsibility to do the right thing. People had died, and since Merlin was found unarmed then it made sense it was his partner who killed them. And he was still out there.

God this was a headache. Should she call King right now? To be fair she had this information second hand, really Elyan should report this. And then maybe she would be able to help and stay on the case at the same time. Gwen needed to get her brother to make a statement as soon as possible. For that she needed to get him a good lawyer who would have his back.

She knew exactly who to call.

* * *

After Queen left, Arthur slipped into the record room by the cells and spent a few minutes watching Merlin’s camera feed like a hawk. The man didn’t break. Arthur scowled at the ‘sleeping’ prisoner for a moment, before conceding he had to get moving. There was still a lot more work to do… and besides, it was getting noisy back here- a civilian was trying to charm Officer Pendleton, and she wasn’t taking kindly to him. Pitying the poor man, Arthur marched back upstairs and braced himself for the onslaught of paperwork and dead ends.

Arthur almost kissed Lee when he turned up at his desk with a solid lead.

“You are the greatest detective in the world, have I ever told you that?”

Lee snorted. “It just came up on his driving record, I did nothing.”

“Sherlock Holmes reincarnate, I swear!” Arthur grinned at him while grabbing his jacket and keys, before bouncing away to his car.

Apparently while Lee was glaring at Emerit’s driving record a fine for his registered vehicle appeared in the system. It had been parked overtime in a Bristol University carpark _last night_ , and was still there, just fifteen minutes from the crime scene.

Arthur sped over. He drove into the parking garage, showing his police badge to get in, and soon spotted the vintage Beetle on the ground floor. As he walked over he let out a low whistle, it was a nice ride, in good condition for such an old vehicle.

Arthur did a double take as he squinted through the window.

“As if…”

There on the passenger seat was a newspaper folded open on an article about ‘Merlin’s spell book’. Arthur smiled triumphantly. He would bet anything Merlin drove this car here last night. He had Emerit’s wallet, it made sense he had his car too. Whether they were stolen or given was still unclear, but Arthur felt validating knowing his investigation into the old man was relevant to the robbery.

He texted Lee to get a warrant to search the car, then called the towing company. The carpark attendant was more than happy to let him view the security footage, so Arthur soon found himself pouring over a monitor in a dingy back office. He fast-forwarded through the previous day, and easily spotted the Beetle arriving. The footage was grainy, but Arthur could tell it was Merlin driving. Old man Emerit was nowhere in sight.

“Don’t you need a uni ID to park here?” Arthur turned to the attendant, who was leaning on the back wall watching the monitor curiously.

“Aye. But there was some error with that one, got in without it somehow. That’s why we fined him soon as we realised, usually students and staff get a warning beforehand.”

“Hm.” Arthur frowned back at the screen. Still no closer to finding out his real name then.

It was useful in another way though. Merlin had a hood pulled over his head so unfortunately there was no clear shot of his face on the footage, but Arthur could still see where the man went. He left the building in a different direction than Renton Security, and a few hours earlier than the robbery. So what was he doing in that time?

Arthur hurried out the same side door Merlin had left through. On the opposite side of the street was the university library, with a security camera above the entrance. Seemed like a good place to start.

Arthur soon discovered it was a good place to end too. The security footage in the library showed Merlin entering the building and sticking there for a few hours, until just twenty minutes before the robbery. Arthur tried to find out what he had been looking at on the computer, but much to a confounded IT guy’s dismay, the machine’s history had been wiped. Merlin had also tricked the library’s ID card sensor’s, just like with the parking garage, though the security footage didn’t show him doing anything suspicious. He just looked like any other night owl student, though Arthur noticed he conveniently avoided sitting within clear view of any cameras.

All this gave Arthur a headache. Did this mean Merlin was some kind of genius hacker? Did he have experience breaking into places? If so, then why was he so bad at it last night?

Arthur’s phone pinged. A text from Phil.

_‘Your boys awake and wants to speak to me!’_

Arthur frowned. How did he even know who Phil was? He raced to his car. Phil could try his hand, but he was still Arthur’s suspect, and the detective finally had ammunition to shake him with. His link to Emerit and whatever reason he had for coming here were still unclear, but maybe Arthur could jolt him by letting him know he was on his tail.

He might get a confession yet.


	10. Friends and Foes

There once was a time where all it would take to distract the average guard was a mysterious noise in a distant corridor.

Modern breakouts were a lot more complicated.

Skipping the interrogation had been the right call, as Merlin had to do a lot more poking around before his plan was ready. Unfortunately shooting himself with a temporary sleep spell had slowed him down a little bit, but it was the only way Merlin could think of to trick the doctor. He was paying for it now of course, as that and his constant spying around the building had drained his energy considerably, so he would have to be very careful with how much magic he used in his breakout.

Merlin’s sight was currently hovering in the record room that lay just before the cells. Officer Pendleton was on her shift at the sign-in counter, and deeper in the room Officer Brown sat at a screen doing busy work. At five Pendleton’s shift would end and Brown would move to sit at the counter, assuming responsibility for the sign-in folder. Merlin watched the clock carefully.

It was time.

“HELLO! HELLO?!”

Merlin banged on his cell door loudly, and was soon rewarded with a pair of eyes peering at him through the slot in the door.

“What?” Pendleton barked.

“I want to speak with Detective King, right now please.”

“He’s not here.” Pendleton said curtly. “And you’ll have to wait until we contact your lawyer-“

“No, no lawyer, and if King’s not here then I’ll speak to Detective Jeffers.” Merlin quickly amended. Arthur’s friend Phil would have to do. “It just has to be right now.”

This earned him a frown. “Why _right_ now?”

Merlin gave her a blank look for a moment. _Mustn’t mentioned the breakout_.

“I’m experiencing a rare and fleeting urge to be honest.” He grinned, probably looking quite unhinged if the officer’s expression was anything to go by. She eyed him dubiously before radioing up to Jeffers.

The man was much less friendly with Merlin than he’d been with Arthur.

“I’m not on your case.” Phil’s eyes glared into Merlin’s cell.

“Sorry.” Merlin smiled apologetically. “But this is urgent!”

“What?”

“Well…” Merlin paused awkwardly as the detective stared him down. “Aren’t we going to go to the interrogation room?”

Phil scowled at him, unamused by his antics. Nether the less, the hauled him out and into the interrogation room, all while Merlin counted the seconds down in his head.

“Well? This better be good.” Phil eyed him warily from across the table.

Merlin took a deep breath. “Okay, I’d like to make a deal. I’ll talk completely candidly for the next few minutes, but I go back to my cell exactly when I say, okay?”

It was a sweet deal. A weird request, but Phil had no reason to suspect what Merlin was up to, and had nothing to lose from such a small favour. Merlin could see this logic play across the detective’s eyes, and after a moment he shrugged and nodded.

Merlin smiled in thanks. “Okay, so, Arthur’s been tearing his hair out about Marvin Emerit right? And Gaius Oldman too?”

Phil looked sharply at him, but didn’t say anything.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Merlin smiled sympathetically. “The truth is they’re both me. I’m immortal and I change my name every so often to avoid suspicion.”

Phil shot him a look so unimpressed it reminded him of Gaius. “I thought you were going to be ‘candid’?”

“I’m telling you the truth! You have Emerit’s picture, you can spot the resemblance if you look closely. I only de-aged myself recently, see, and- “

“De-aged?” Phil sounded more and more peeved.

“Yes, I know it’s hard to believe but I’m actually _the_ Merlin, I’m a sorcerer and every century I use magic to make myself younger- “

“This is over.” Phil rose from his seat.

“No, wait, I need a bit more time-“

“I’ve heard all I need to.” Phil was pulling him up by his arm now, but Merlin wasn’t done.

“I can prove it!”

That bought him a few seconds. Phil unhanded him with a scowl and crossed his arms.

“Go on then.”

Merlin smiled. “I’ll show you a magic trick.”

Merlin covered his eyes and immediately cast them over to the record room. The timing turned out to be perfect, as Pendleton was just logging off the computer.

“ _Cad_ _ær_.” He hushed out. The coffee on Officer Brown’s desk jerked into his lap, causing him to jump up and swear. Merlin stayed long enough to see his rushed apology to Pendleton as he headed towards the toilets.

“-and think I’d be impressed by a bit of bloody Spanish, then you really need to reassess your attitude!”

Merlin uncovered his eyes to see an angry detective ranting at him and pulling him out the door. He clearly wasn’t impressed by what appeared to be a dud spell.

Merlin grinned apologetically. “This trick takes a few minutes. You’ll be amazed!”

“I doubt it.”

As Phil marched him back to his cell Merlin set a fast pace, keen to get there unnoticed. Once inside he flicked his eyes to the record room and was dismayed to see Phil taking his time signing Merlin back in, venting his frustrations to Pendleton as he did so. _God, he needs to leave_. Brown would be back soon.

Good job Pendleton was doing her part at least. Merlin could see she had her bag ready in hand, eyes flicking to the clock. Fortunately, Phil noticed this too and wished her a good evening, finally retreating upstairs to his desk.

And not a moment too soon, as Brown returned seconds later, cleaned up as best he could but still with a fairly noticeable wet patch on his trousers. Pendleton laughed and poked fun at him.

“Ha-ha, so clumsy, I know.” Brown responded with a sarcastic smile. “Now go on, off with you.”

“See you tomorrow.” Pendleton smiled gratefully as he shooed her out the counter chair. She made a beeline for the exit.

Brown watched after her, but before he got the chance to glance down at the folder Merlin cracked out a classic old trick. Random noise at the back of the room, can’t go wrong!

Brown wandered curiously into the room as anticipated, giving Merlin time to cast a quick enchantment erasing the evidence he’d been checked back into his cell. Brown had seen him leave for interrogation and hadn’t seen or heard anything to indicate that interrogation was over. Phase one was over.

Merlin snapped his vision back into his body and jumped up onto the toilet. He pressed his finger to the base of the security camera and whispered a spell to freeze the image of his empty looking cell. Now safe from being seen, he bounced to the door and disabled the buzzer that sounded when it was unlocked, before gently popping the door open a touch so it resembled the other empty cells. Finally, Merlin raised his palm to the small ventilation grate near the ceiling and started chanting an incantation.

Time for all hell to break loose.

* * *

Gwen had a hundred things to do.

She was in the courthouse arranging a hearing when she got a text from her brother. She walked along trying to alternate between texting back and filling in a form atop her stack of files. If she completed this form on the walk over to the police station it might save her a few minutes somewhere, and Gwen needed every second.

Fortunately, a kind stranger helped her mission by holding open the courthouse door for her, although he clearly wasn’t thinking about saving her time.

“My lady!” he grinned as he held the door open. He was just about handsome enough to pull off his cheesy choice of words.

“Thank you!” Gwen flashed him a distracted smile as she rebalanced her files and briefcase.

“Let me hold those for you.” He skipped around her, holding his hands out for the files. “Busy lady such as yourself should have an assistant!”

Gwen didn’t have time to be charmed right now, so just smiled politely as she walked on. “I’ll tell that to my boss. Really, I’m fine, thank you.”

“Gwen!”

They both turned to see a woman waving from across the street. She wore a smart jumpsuit and blazer, and looked more like a lawyer from TV than reality. Gwen had been expecting this- her friend always knew how to look elegant without even trying.

“Alice!” Gwen smiled at her. She moved to cross the street, awkwardly glancing back at the stranger before she did so. He smiled at her, but got the message he shouldn’t overstay his welcome.

“Farewell my lady.” He shot her one last seductive grin as he walked away, and sent Alice a playful wave as if he knew her. She raised her eyebrow as Gwen reached her side of the street.

“Who was that?”

“No idea!” Gwen chuckled as they exchanged a quick hug.

“Well whoever he is let’s keep him!“ Alice smiled mischievously and pretended to turn to chase after him. Gwen laughed and pulled her in the other direction towards the station.

“Maybe later.” Gwen smiled. However stressed she was, Alice always knew how to make her laugh. Since her friend moved to Bristol a few months ago the two had been catching up, and when Gwen needed a good lawyer to represent her brother she immediately thought of her old uni housemate. Alice was more than happy to help. She usually specialised in environmental law, but when Gwen called she seemed excited to try her wits at something different. Gwen knew she was definitely smart enough to handle this.

As they walked, their talk turned to business. Alice and Elyan had been in contact the past few hours since Gwen connected them, so they already knew what to say. Gwen sighed with relief, it sounded like Elyan had a pretty good grasp of the situation. She would check in with him briefly before he went into the station, and then go and see how Merlin was faring. She hoped her client was awake by now and in a more cooperative mood.

As they approached the station they spotted Elyan, then just as he waved at them an alarm sounded. The three of them jumped and looked at the station as people started pouring out.

“Well that’s not great timing.” Elyan frowned at the building as they reached him. He shook his head before smiling and going in for a hug. “Alice, good to see you.”

“And you.” She smiled and gave him a quick squeeze. They didn’t know each other well, but had met a few times back when Gwen and Alice lived together.

“Thank you for helping me again.”

“It’s really no problem!”

“Maybe we should stand back a little.” Gwen glanced around at the crowd, wary that they would soon start organising a headcount. Elyan and Alice agreed, and the three of them backed up towards the road while the crowd milled in front of the station. After a couple of minutes it became apparent it was actually a real fire, as they could see smoke clouding the downstairs windows.

“Hey!”

Gwen’s eyes were drawn to the familiar voice, and her stomach skipped involuntarily as she spotted Detective King jogging into the crowd towards his friends. She was too far away to hear their conversation, but as she watched something happened. Whatever his friends said distressed him, and after struggling with the closed front doors he suddenly ran off around the side of the building. That was strange, why were the front doors shut? They had been open a moment ago…

“Somethings happening.” Alice had spotted the commotion too. She exchanged a worried glance with Gwen.

“What’s happening?” Elyan asked absently as he looked up from his phone.

“We don’t know.” Gwen watched with a frown as some other officers started tugging on the front doors. Their struggle drew attention, and soon most of the crowd was watching in confusion. In the distance Gwen heard sirens approaching, the fire fighters on their way.

“Oh my god…”

Hearing his murmur, Gwen looked at her brother. He wasn’t watching the commotion as everyone else was, instead his eyes were fixed opposite the crowd. “It’s him…”

Gwen followed his gaze. Oh, it was that flirty man from the courthouse… How did Elyan-

“That’s the guy!” Elyan exclaimed. “That’s the guy from yesterday!”

“What?!”

“Hey!” Elyan shouted as he stepped forward. The man turned to look, and his eyes immediately widened. After a split second he turned and ran.

“Oh, Elyan!” Gwen smacked him on the arm. He should have kept quiet.

“Come on!”

While Gwen and Elyan were still reacting Alice had already taken off after him. In a second the twins were on her heels.

The man had taken off down a road on the other side of the station, and when the group reached it they were surprised to see him stood still not far along it. He was watching something in the station carpark, but as they gained on him he noticed them with a start and took off again.

Alice was the fastest and furthest ahead. It looked like she’d soon catch up to him, but then an obstacle appeared. All this time the sirens had been getting louder, but Gwen’s group was still taken by surprise when the fire truck screeched out from a side road before them, cutting off their view of the stranger. The truck honked at them and they jumped out of the road. Alice didn’t let it slow her down though, darting around it and after the man. But then-

SLAM! A figure shot out from a pathway to the side and collided with Alice. Gwen and Elyan stumbled in surprise and concern before racing over. As she caught up to the pair rising dizzily from the ground Gwen recognised the man right away.

“Detective King?”

He looked at her disorientated, and Gwen could tell he wasn’t just shaken by the collision. However eventful the past few minutes had been for her, she reckoned he could match it. He looked at a total loss.

As he explained what just happened, Gwen could understand why.

* * *

In all the confusion, not one of them spotted the woman watching from the shadows.

Long red hair seeped out from beneath her hood, like thick curtains besides her eyes, which were transfixed on their group. If anyone had looked upon her, they might have wondered how two eyes could hold such fire. It was lucky none were burned. Those eyes held incredible pain, and rage, and strangest of all… hope. Anyone who knew her, not that there was anyone who did, could see she was filled head to toe with white hot hope. Because she had found her.

At long last, she had found her queen.


	11. The Disappearing Act

Arthur arrived back to a station in pandemonium.

Well that was an exaggeration. It was an orderly fire evacuation. Arthur spotted Lee as he spilled out the building and jogged over to him.

“Hey!” He caught his friend’s attention, falling into step with him. “Someone put a spoon in the microwave?”

“No idea, loads of smoke just came out of nowhere. We could hardly see!” He nodded to the windows, and sure enough they were obscured by a thick grey cloud.

“Arthur!” Phil appeared at his side, shaking his head ruefully. “You’re not gonna believe what your nutty friend told me- “

“Hey Phil!”

The three men turned to see Oliver Brown waving to get his friend’s attention. As he neared, the young officer seemed to grow confused, looking around uncertainly.

“We need all the prisoners together round back, we’re putting them in a riot van until this is sorted. Where’s your guy?”

“What do you mean?”

Brown’s eyes widened in panic as they looked at him.

“John Doe. You had him in interrogation- “

“I put him back.” Phil said defensively.

“No, his cell was empty.” Brown voice pitched up frantically. “His wasn’t signed in- “

“I _definitely_ signed him in!”

Arthur looked back and forth between them, not believing his ears. Was this really happening? He swore and jumped into action, rushing towards the entrance. The way was clear, it looked like the last few people had just exited-

SLAM!

The heavy doors slammed shut as if they had a life of their own. How was that possible? They had been held open by metal bolts in the ground, no one touched them, how did the bolts lift? Arthur grabbed the handle and pulled as hard as he could. The door didn’t budge an inch. Lee was quick to join him, and threw his weight into it. No luck. Arthur huffed and kicked the door before turning.

“Did you see that?”

Brown and Phil nodded, perplexed, as Lee inspected the door.

“This door isn’t automatic, a person needs to lock it from the inside.” He turned to Arthur, brow furrowed. “There was no one in there.”

“Yes, there was.” Arthur glared at the door. He hadn’t seen the man, but he knew who had to be responsible. “Come on, round the back!”

The back exit was also locked, and the grate for the underground garage was slammed down. Arthur swore as he tried to lift it.

“Why is this locked?”

“It just fell down!” An officer called across the slim car park that lined the back wall. A small group of officers were standing guard by a large riot van.

Arthur exchanged a look with Lee before glaring back at the building. Just fell down, like the front doors just slammed shut. Something was going on here.

As Lee wondered aloud what was going on, Phil and Brown bickered between themselves, and Arthur looked around trying to think. Suddenly he spied a solution, an open window. Only problem was it wasn’t ground level.

“Phil! Van!” Arthur didn’t wait for the boys to follow before running over to the riot van, and he shouted to the officers before he reached it. “Get that lot out!”

They looked quite rightfully confused, but started hustling the prisoners out the van all the same, with Brown and Lee soon helping herd them to the side.

Phil was the last to physically catch up, but the first to understand Arthur’s plan. “You’re mad.” He shook his head with a smile and hopped into the driver’s seat as Arthur eyed the open window directly opposite the back of the van. Not wasting a second, Arthur clambered up on to van roof as Phil started backing up towards the building. As he suspected, the van was just tall enough to reach the open window. Arthur pried it open fully and fell inside, before helping in Lee who’d climbed up after him.

“Check the security footage in case he’s moved, I’m heading downstairs.” He gave Lee a grateful pat on the arm before rushing to the stairs on the opposite side.

“Mind the smoke!” His friend called after him. The air was surprisingly clear upstairs, but Arthur knew a thick cloud awaited him. He ripped off his jacket as he bound down the steps, ready to make a make-shift mask, when-

Arthur stumbled to a halt. He dropped his jacket limply. The entire ground floor was completely clear, except for the windows. Every single one was obscured by a thick blanket of smoke, it clung to them upright as if possessed. As if held there by an invisible force. Arthur stepped forwards timidly and swiped his hand through the cloudy veil in front of the main entrance. It swirled between his fingers just like real smoke, but didn’t disperse out into the room.

Impossible.

“Arthur!”

Lee’s shout snapped him from his reverie, and he spun away from the offence to physics and charged up the stairs. His friend’s call sounded urgent, and when he reached the top he could see why.

“Merlin!”

The gangly man stumbled into a desk as he turned to the sound of his name. He was halfway between the security room and the open window. He somehow looked both scared and happy to see him.

“Arthur!” He said his name with a nervous smile, like a child caught in mischief.

He was actually a murderer caught escaping jail, Arthur reminded himself, and without another second of hesitation he leapt forward. Merlin responded quickly, ducking between desks and hurtling out the window. Arthur was a few steps behind him, but when he jumped out the window a moment later the roof of the van wasn’t there to meet him, and he instead slammed hard against it’s back edge. The van continued rolling away as Arthur fell ass-first onto the concrete.

Arthur winced as he forced his winded body upright, keeping his eyes ahead of him the whole time. Before he could take his first stumbling steps after the van, it crashed into the carpark wall, sending Merlin half-jumping, half-flying over it. He heard the nearby prisoners cheer, and behind him he heard Lee calling down asking if he was okay.

He wasn’t, but pushed on anyway, scrambling up and over the wall after Merlin. He landed on a dirt path between the wall and some garden fences. He looked left and right. No Merlin. No way to know which way he’d gone. Arthur felt a bead of sweat roll down his forehead, he didn’t know what to do, he would have to guess.

He turned right.

Arthur’s gut told him his enemy was this way, though he had to reverse engineer a reason why. He knew there was a road at the end of this path that led away from the centre, so maybe Merlin would go to a less populated area to avoid notice? As the road came into view Arthur picked up his pace when he saw a man running down the alley opposite. Yes! Got hi-

Arthur slowed slightly as he realised this man was not Merlin. This was a different man running away-

SLAM!

Right as Arthur emerged onto the road a body slammed into his, and they both tumbled to the ground. Why was everyone running?!

“Damn it!”

A well-dressed woman with a pixie-cut hurriedly untangled herself from him and looked around before sparing a moment to glare at him. He lifted himself from the ground with a huff.

“Sorry- “

“Did you see where he went?”

Arthur frowned in response. This woman didn’t realise that whoever she was chasing was a lot less important than his target. Arthur looked down the alley the man had run into. He was gone.

“Detective King?”

Gwen Queen appeared. Arthur straightened his back.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fin-

“-I’m fine.”

He and pixie-cut responded at the same time. A strange look passed between all three of them before the man hovering near Gwen cut in.

“So... he, um, got away?”

Arthur frowned in confusion as the mystery woman nodded frustratedly.

“Who were you chasing?”

Gwen rubbed her forehead anxiously. “A man who seems to have something to do with the robbery.”

“What?!”

“And I might have caught him if not for you.” Pixie-cut shot him a glare.

“Alice, come on now- “

“What?” She snapped at Gwen before turning back to Arthur. “What were you doing running into the middle of the road?”

He huffed out indignantly. “I was chasing the actual suspect!”

“Merlin?!” Gwen gasped out. “He- ?”

“He just…” Arthur shook his head, he still couldn’t believe it. “He just escaped.”

Gwen looked at him with pure shock. He didn’t know what to say. There was so much about this he couldn’t explain, even to himself. But it had really happened. Merlin had really escaped.

Arthur clenched his jaw. His life was about to get very difficult.

* * *

Trust Arthur to make his life difficult!

Merlin had barely smoked everyone out the building when his friend came barrelling towards it. If he was a few seconds quicker the whole plan might’ve been ruined. As it happened Merlin’s escape plan was still possible, but would have to be a lot faster than anticipated. He locked all the entrances he knew of all at once, but Arthur knew the station better than him, and would soon find his way in. Probably by just smashing the door down.

Merlin moved quickly through the ground floor, nabbing what evidence he needed. He had to prioritise anything with his image on it, so he didn’t have time to delete his voice recordings from the interviews, and instead moved upstairs to raid Arthur’s desk. Deleting data from the cybercrimes room proved most difficult, as there were more data and remote systems to sift through than anywhere else. Magic helped of course. He was staring at the flashing screen with golden eyes when he heard the door open.

“ARTHUR!”

Merlin snapped his mind back to the room and flung an instinctive silencing spell at the doorway.

He then found himself at a loss for words when he realised who had discovered him. The knight wore a collared shirt and glasses, looking so unlike Merlin remembered that he hadn’t even recognised him at first.

“Leon?”

His friend opened his mouth as he stepped forward, but slowed with a panicked look when no sound came out. His fear quickly shifted to anger, and he jumped at Merlin.

Merlin slowed time for a split second to dart around him, and the knight tumbled to the floor. “Sorry!” As Merlin fled, he snapped his fingers to release the silencing his spell, wincing at what a fright he’d given the poor man.

Though he’d originally planned to sneak out through the underground carpark, Merlin made a quick decision to avoid downstairs. If Leon got in then Arthur would be on his way. Luckily Merlin spotted a window wide open, with what looked like a van parked conveniently next to it. That would do!

“MERLIN!”

Even though he was trying to imprison him, seeing Arthur still made Merlin happy. Unfortunately at the moment he hardly had time to waste on nostalgia, so he continued with his escape, launching himself out the window. As he landed on the van he zapped it with a quick spell to make it move forward, and luckily it was just out of reach when Arthur rushed out the window after him. Merlin hardly had time to gain his balance before the van crashed into a wall, launching him over it. With one final blast of magic Merlin pushed the air beneath him, and propelled himself an extra couple of metres, landing in a garden bush.

Merlin winced and blew a leaf out his mouth. He breathed out heavily. The adrenaline in his system couldn’t make up for the fact he’d used too much magic in his escape, way more than planned. Anymore right now and he would likely pass out.

A noise behind the garden fence made him freeze. It sounded like someone had just climbed over the wall, and Merlin could easily guess who. He prayed Arthur wouldn’t look over the fence separating them. It was tall, but all it would take was a little jump to see him.

Footsteps pounded off to the side. Merlin breathed a sigh of relief.

He achingly got up and clambered round the side of the house, grateful there was no one home. Merlin ran off in the opposite direction Arthur had gone, dodging and weaving through small streets to avoid notice. If he could just get back to his car then he would be safe. It wouldn’t be easy, that area of the city was often packed with students, but if Merlin was careful then he could make it there without being seen. He knew Bristol well, and knew what roads he should and shouldn’t go down to avoid notice.

He ran at first, weary the police would be after him by now, but eventually he just couldn’t keep it up. The adrenaline was fading, leaving only exhaustion in it’s place. After taking the painstakingly long way round, Merlin finally arrived at the parking garage where he’d left his beloved Beetle. He carefully turned off the security cameras by the entrance and, fighting the fresh onslaught of exhaustion, smiled as he walked in to greet his saviour.

_No_ …

Merlin felt like crying. It was gone. He walked over to the parking spot where he’d left it and fell to his knees in defeat. He was too tired for this…

He figured he’d get a fine for parking it overtime, but he couldn’t believe they’d towed it already, unless… Oh.

Arthur. Of course he found it, he had his license.

Oh god, Arthur could be on his way here right now. Merlin needed to get out of here. Struggling to his feet, Merlin fixed his eyes on the car he reckoned would be the least missed of all the ones around him, a little old Ford. Gathering his strength, he held his palm above the door handle and disabled the alarm before popping it open with magic. His vision swam. As he slowly clambered in, he readied himself for one last spell, and-

“HEY!”

The yell startled Merlin and he slipped as his spell released, knocking his head against the car doorway as the engine purred to life. Suddenly Merlin was on the floor and seeing stars.

“Are you alright?”

Someone was pulling him up by his t-shirt…and slapping his face. Merlin blinked open his eyes and tried to see through the coloured splotches upon them. Brown hair framed the familiar face frowning down at him.

“Gwaine...?”

Merlin felt a thud echo through his skull as the ground rushed up behind him. He slipped into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As some of you spotted, flirty man is in fact Gwaine! But did anyone guess that Lee was just short for Leon?  
> So this is the first of a few chapters that will reveal hidden details in the story so far! Can I ask, if you go back to spot clues make sure to comment in the latest chapter and not the one with the foreshadowing in- we don't want first-time readers seeing spoilers as they go along.  
> So far there isn't much to spoil, but next week we take a look at events from Gwaine's perspective, so you'll know what I mean then!


	12. A Knight's Night

Gwaine jerked awake as his leg slipped off the armrest, his body sore from sleeping in such an awkward position. He was sprawled out over a chair by a hospital bed, and as he blinked in the light, he realised the bed’s occupant was awake and smirking at him.

“You came all this way to check on your old man?”

Gwaine looked at him. He was actually awake. The doctors said… well, they didn’t know if he’d make it. They said it could go either way, and Gwaine had been prepared for a darker end. Now here he was, caught sleeping at his injured father’s bedside. The old man had a triumphant look on his face; clearly he hadn’t let his brush with death teach him any humility.

“Came for the will reading.” Gwaine grumbled as he stood and stretched. His Dad’s little chuckle turned into a cough, and Gwaine fought to keep his face neutral. “How long you been awake?”

He answered with a small shrug, probably the only movement he was capable of. “No one’s been in to check on me. You’d think they’d take better care of me, man in my condition-“

“Always complaining, aren’t you? You almost died you know.” Gwaine leaned against the windowsill and crossed his arms. “What did you get into?”

His Dad only huffed in response and looked pointedly away. Gwaine shook his head. He was such a child!

“Thought you were past all this, now you’re Mr Moneybags. The police will have questions-“

“I don’t know who did it, okay?” He stroked the bandages over his torso as he spat his words. “I don’t know who she was-“

“She?”

“Crazy redhead. Stronger than she looked!” He glared at Gwaine, as if daring him to taunt his masculinity, wrongly assuming he cared. “And she had a bloody hunting knife on her! I was unprepared, in my own home, minding my own business! She was breakin’ and enterin’, that’s all the police need to know-“

“But that’s not all there is to it?” Gwaine fixed him with a sharp look.

“That’s all the police need to know.” The old crook stressed stubbornly.

“So she’s not gonna come back and finish you off?” Gwaine stepped towards the bed, raising his voice. “Or go and hurt someone else?”

His Dad scoffed. “The rich ponce who bought that book can fend her off better than I can.”

Gwaine creased his brows. “She came after you for that old book?”

“No…” he responded hesitantly. “She just wanted to know where I got it, and had quite the temper tantrum when I didn’t tell her.”

“Where did you get it?”

His silence was all Gwaine needed to confirm his suspicions. The ‘family heirloom’ explanation might have passed on Antiques Roadshow, but Gwaine knew his Dad would never make money so legitimately. It seems this time there’d actually been some consequences to his misdeeds. Gwaine shook his head and grabbed his jacket, heading for the door.

“That’s it? You came all this way just to leave again?”

Gwaine stopped but didn’t turn around. He couldn’t stand to stay in the room with his Dad, but he also knew he couldn’t leave town with him in this condition. He hadn’t seen the man in years, and got on happily without him, yet when he heard he was on his deathbed… Gwaine had come. He couldn’t even articulate why, he just had to see him.

Now it turns out the old crook would live, and suddenly all the bad memories were that much clearer. Gwaine hardened his resolve and grabbed the door handle.

“See you at your next stabbing.”

In the hallway Gwaine pointed a nurse towards the room, and put his number down as an emergency contact at reception. As much as he hated the man, he would come back if needed.

As much as he hated the man, he still had to know who attacked him.

* * *

As Elyan approached the archaeology building he spotted someone peeking into the windows.

“Can I help you?”

The man’s brown hair swished as he turned around. Elyan couldn’t help but notice how good looking he was.

“Ah, you study here?” He flashed a grin. “I’m a student too, lost my ID.”

“Been there.” Elyan smiled as he swiped his key card and held the door open.

“Thanks so much!” He looked around before jumping into step with Elyan. “Actually, I wonder if you can help me, do you know where they’re studying this ‘Merlin’s Book’?” He did air quotations.

“Yeah… I’m assisting on that project.” Elyan frowned a little in confusion. “Who are you?”

“Oh, just an interested student. I emailed Professor Elton, the department head, he said it was okay for me to stop by and look around?”

Odd. Elton wasn’t usually so easy-going, and he hadn’t mentioned this to Elyan.

“He’s not in right now.” Elyan didn’t really know what to make of this guy. “He never stays past five.”

“Oh, right. But is it okay for me to look at it quickly?” He shot Elyan another toothy grin. “I promise I’ll be careful!”

They had arrived outside the lab. The book wasn’t in there, they had transferred it away a few hours ago, but all the scanned pages were here. It would be easy enough to show him. Elyan hesitated for a moment… for some reason his instinct was to trust this man… But then again confidentiality agreements didn’t account for gut feelings.

“I’m sorry, but it’s not actually here anymore, it’s been moved to a private security firm.” He said, watching the man’s smile falter. “We have scans, but I’d need to see a signed ethics form- Elton must have told you that?”

Something in his eyes made Elyan suddenly doubt his story.

“Right… yeah, he hasn’t emailed it over yet.” He lingered a moment before stepping away. “Thank you anyway!”

Elyan frowned at him as he walked away. “What’s your name?” he called after him.

The man left without answering.

* * *

Percy felt like a stalker.

Not that he had experience with this, to be fair. It didn’t take much sleuthing to find someone’s Instagram, and even though this guy had a public profile it didn’t tell much about him: Gwaine Strongman was far from an influencer. It was pure chance that just as Percy looked at his profile, he appeared in an image tagged in Bristol of all places! He was even close-by, his friend had tagged the nightclub. Gwaine’s profile description listed Dublin as his city, yet here he was in Bristol. Probably visiting his dad.

Percy cast a wary look at the screen before typing out a message. After a moment of deliberation, he bit his lip and hit send.

No response.

An hour passed and he heard nothing, all the while a single fact nagged at Percy’s patience: Gwaine was ten minutes away. Percy knew the club he’d been tagged at, it was in the city centre just half a mile from Percy’s gym, the gym he was currently pulverising a boxing bag in. Percy worked there as a boxing coach, and would sometimes stay after hours to exercise. The silence was peaceful, it gave him room to think. Of course, for the past week Percy’s mind had been far from peaceful, especially tonight knowing Strongman’s son was ten minutes away.

He checked his phone before and after showering. No new messages. He dressed, got ready to leave, locked up; all the while no new messages. Percy made it a few steps towards home before spinning round and walking into the centre.

He felt a pit in his stomach the whole way there, which only felt heavier when he saw the queue outside the club. Was he really going to stand in a line for half an hour on the off chance this Gwaine guy was still inside? Percy wasn’t even sure what he wanted from the man. It was his Dad he had a problem with. Even if Gwaine was reasonable, he probably couldn’t convince his dad to own up to anything- the man was a stubborn old bastard.

While Percy stood opposite the club caught in indecision, pure chance struck again.

“Alright, cheers mate.”

The voice had an Irish lilt to it. Percy jerked his head round to see a delivery man at the end of the street handing a stack of pizza boxes to someone in a doorway. Was that…?

“Gwaine, it’s your turn-“

The door closed just as the faint call reached Percy’s ears. He couldn’t believe it. He jogged over and rapt on the door. After a moment it jerked open to an unfriendly face.

“Uh… is Gwaine there?” Now the uncertainty was back. What was he doing?

The man nodded him inside. The smell of weed hit Percy, and he winced as the door clicked shut behind him. Moving along the slim corridor, he swallowed the lump in his throat and focused on why he was here.

As he entered a large room he spotted that ‘why’ sitting at a poker table, grinning and munching a slice of pizza.

“Gwaine?”

The man blinked and smiled confidently at him. He seemed friendlier than his dad, but that might be because he was off his face. “Who wants to know?”

Percy glanced around. Everyone was looking at him, and no one seemed too happy.

“I’m here about your dad.”

A dark look flit across Gwaine’s face. He rose from the table to some protestations, but he waved them off. He beckoned Percy to follow him as he stumbled to the back door. After another dim corridor they emerged onto a small balcony, they were now a story up since the building was on a slope. Gwaine leaned over the railing as he fished a carton of cigarettes from his pocket. His drunkenness was clear in the way he moved, and Percy almost felt he should hold him back from the rail.

“Is my dad…” Gwaine trailed off before pushing himself upright and lighting a cigarette. Before taking a drag he fixed an eye on Percy, as if considering him for the first time. “Who are you?”

“My name’s Percy.” He still wasn’t sure if this was the right thing to do, but he was here now. “Your Dad was friends with my gran.”

“Was?” Gwaine asked quietly.

“I warned him off.” Percy met Gwaine’s sharp look. “He stole from her.”

“So you’re not here because…” Gwaine frowned at him. “Why are you here? What do you want?”

Percy faltered as Gwaine’s gaze grew harder. “I tried to talk to him but-“

“But he told you to piss off, and you can’t prove anything.” Gwaine’s tone seemed irritated now. “Look I’m not responsible for-“

“I’m not saying you are, I just-“

“My Dad stole from a lot of people, okay? Best tell your nan to move on.” Gwaine gave him a cold look.

For the first time since meeting him, Percy felt a surge of dislike for Gwaine. Move on? His dad had robbed him of a chance to look after his gran. To get her the care she needs. She’s his only family, and Percy could barely afford to keep the heating on. She was vulnerable, she couldn’t remember things, and Stanley Strongman had taken advantage of her. Now what was he doing with her money? Pissing it away? Letting his son gamble it away?

“She can’t remember what he took, but I do.” Some of the anger Percy felt towards Stanley Strongman seeped into his words.

“Good for her! You should follow suit.” Gwaine patted his shoulder and tried to shove past, but Percy grabbed his arm.

“He made a million pounds off her.”

Gwaine stopped. “The book?” There was something in his expression Percy couldn’t quite read.

“The book.” He confirmed. Gwaine’s face seemed to harden.

“I see. You want revenge. You and your redhead girlfriend- “

Gwaine threw his weight into a punch that Percy quickly swiped away, letting the drunk fall to the floor. He stepped around him to the door, shaking his head. This was a waste of time. Whatever Percy was looking for when he came here tonight- some acknowledgement, remorse, whatever- he wouldn’t find it with this man. He was wrong to hope for sympathy from Strongman’s son. Besides, the guy could barely stand, and was talking nonsense.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said as he stepped inside. “Sorry to bother you.”

He walked into the house, ignoring the calls to come back. Percy felt miserable and ready to put this stupid night behind him. His mind was so stuck on Gwaine that he almost forgot what a seedy place he was walking through.

He remembered suddenly when police in riot gear bust through the door.


	13. A Knight's Day

Gwaine woke from a cool dream.

He’d been traveling through the open countryside, fighting beasts and riding horses, laughing with friends and flirting with fair maidens. Oh, and he had a sword! The only downside was the uncomfortable ground beneath his head, but that’s the price of being a wandering adventurer.

The price being neck pains. And a queasy stomach. And a headache, and god! Is that daylight?

Gwaine opened his eyes drearily and leaned up on his elbows, his dream already forgotten. A leaf brushed his ear. He’d slept in a bush.

Moaning, he sat up, stretched, and tried to dredge through his memories. Clearly he’d had a lot to drink last night. Gwaine winced as he remembered why he’d been so eager to drown his memories. Did he really give up and go drinking after a single failed attempt to investigate that stupid book? Christ, some detective he was.

At least he still had his cigs, wallet, and phone, though that had been dead since the club. Hm. The club. That was his old friend Johnny’s idea. Gwaine preferred a pub to be honest, so he’d been happy when Johnny’s friend-of-a-friend suggested a nearby poker game. Dodgy place though, now Gwaine thought about it. Lot of coke lying around.

Some other memories came to Gwaine as he stood. Police sirens. Jumping off a balcony. Falling on his ass. Running for dear life.

And there was that guy…

God, did he make it out okay? Gwaine was still on the balcony when he heard the fuzz coming, so the guy can’t have had long. He must have been caught up in the raid, thought to be part of that… operation.

Gwaine frowned as he tried to figure out if he cared, and why. The guy had a problem with his Dad, but what was he bothering Gwaine for? And how did he even find him? Gwaine thought he might be involved with the redhead, but now… that link looked fuzzier. He just didn’t seem like a violent guy. He certainly could have beaten the crap out of Gwaine if he wanted to, but instead he walked away when Gwaine threw a punch.

Gwaine had been a bit of a dick. Fair enough the guy was looking for answers, from what it sounded like his dad had really screwed him over. Gwaine wanted to say stealing from a senile old lady was a new low, but unfortunately he knew his dad too well.

Maybe this man could tell Gwaine more about the book. And even if he wasn’t working with the redhead, maybe he knew who she was. And… helping him out of jail was the right thing to do.

Gwaine lit a cig and walked out of the park purposefully. Hopefully on the way he would remember the guy’s name.

*****

Lee’s head was boiling looking at this code.

Inspecting a driving license should have been an easy, quick job. Lee never expected to discover bloody alien interference, or whatever this golden mess in the source code was! Why was it gold? Code can’t just randomly be gold! Or typed in hieroglyphics! All morning Lee had scoured the internet for an explanation, but it didn’t exist, because code like this _couldn’t_ exist!

Some people think of computers as magic, but Lee knew in reality they were just as grounded in the laws of physics as anything else. Every incredible function modern computers could perform started with the hardware, with wires and electricity, and code was an extension of this. It was a beautiful language, but it was logical and orderly, it followed a pattern and every letter of it was explainable. If code obeyed logic like a holy command, then what Lee was looking at was sacrilege.

Lee was still pulling his hair out when his desk phone rang. It was Pendleton from downstairs.

“Hey Lee, there’s a guy here trying to talk his pal out of lockup. Claims wrong-time wrong-place. I need you to check the communication records for the Charles Street bust, see if Percy Vale is incriminated?”

Ah. The case Lee thought he would be working on this morning. He hurriedly opened the evidence files and searched through them, while in the background he heard Pendleton bickering with whoever was bugging her. This guy must have been causing quite a fuss.

“We’ve no record of a Percy Vale.” Lee finally responded. “Either he’s very careful, or was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Hm.” Clearly not the answer she was hoping for. She probably wanted ammunition to tell this guy to go stick himself, instead he would leave triumphant with his friend in tow.

Lee hoped he deserved the victory. To be fair, sometimes people are just in the wrong place.

*****

Here was the last person Percy expected to come to his rescue.

“Hey big man, how you doing?” Gwaine seemed genuinely pleased to see him.

“Hi…” He glanced at the man confusedly as he signed out. “Thank you for...”

“Ah, no worries. I know how to talk my way out of things, always happy to share my talents.” He smiled jollily as they walked through the waiting area and outside. He seemed a lot more put together than last night, although the way he winced when he stepped into the light betrayed how rough he must be feeling. He rubbed his eyes. “Listen about last night…”

“I shouldn’t have come to find you.” Being locked in a cell all night had given Percy time to think it through, and all his little quest looked like now was a massive mistake. “You’re not responsible for your Dad’s decisions, I’m sorry for acting like you were. I just…”

“My dad’s an arsehole.” Gwaine shrugged at him as they walked. “You just wanted answers, I get it.”

“Still…” Percy wasn’t great at expressing himself, but Gwaine seemed to understand anyway.

“You were no great trouble, honestly. I should be the one apologising anyway, for getting you chucked in with that lot.” He gestured behind them. “And for throwing a punch! That was bang out of order.”

Percy smiled. “To be fair you were off your face.”

“Aye, true!” Gwaine chuckled as Percy slowed to stand at the bus stop. He looked back in confusion at him, glancing at courthouse up ahead. “They said you had to go to the courts for some paperwork, right?”

“Yeah.” Percy looked at his feet. “I need to check on my gran first. She shouldn’t be alone for this long.”

“Ah right. You look after her?”

Percy nodded. Gwaine opened his mouth to respond, but instead his eyes fixed over Percy’s shoulder and he stuck his arm out to the road. Percy turned to see the bus pulling up. He looked back at Gwaine.

“Thanks.”

Gwaine gave a little shrug, then fixed Percy with a heavy look. “I’m sorry about what my Dad did. If I could talk him round I would.”

There was an honesty in his eyes that Percy hadn’t realised was there before. He smiled sadly at Gwaine and gave a little nod to show his understanding. The man smiled back, then turned to leave.

Percy had one foot on the bus when he called after him, acting on impulse. “Wait.” Gwaine turned around and raised his eyebrows questioningly. “Do you want to come round for lunch?”

Gwaine blinked, then his mouth split into a surprised smile. “Sure.”

Percy jumped on the bus with Gwaine close behind him, and for the first time that day let out a little laugh. He’d never made a friend this way before.

*****

Gwaine’s day was looking up!

He started it out by waking up in a bush, now here he was having a homecooked meal (a bacon butty,) with his new friend. He’d even met a charming woman! She was 89 years old, but that was irrelevant.

This Percy was actually alright, it turned out. Nice guy, strong and silent type, good at subtle communication. Gwaine liked that, he was funny in his own way. He was especially funny when he confessed to Insta-stalking him, which Gwaine found hilarious.

He came out of his shell more when he talked to his nan, and vice versa. She was a sweet old lady, very kind. Very forgetful too- she’d forgotten to eat today. Gwaine could see why Percy was anxious to get home quickly.

He didn’t bring up who his father was, though Percy told him she’d forgotten what he did to her anyway. Apparently she was a bit of a hoarder, but over time had lost track of her various treasures, and didn’t even notice when the book went missing. Other things she did notice, but thought she’d misplaced and started to get more anxious, organising the house compulsively. Percy didn’t know where her things were going until he saw the book in the newspaper and recognised his Gran’s ‘friend’ from her games-night club. He must have been coming round for tea when Percy wasn’t there. Percy warned him off, and tried to get the police involved, but at the end of the day Gwaine’s Dad had been careful. He’d gotten to know the old lady, he knew what Percy could and couldn’t prove was hers.

Gwaine’s blood boiled hearing about what his Dad had done. It was a painful reminder of why he and his Mum left Bristol in the first place. He didn’t tell Percy why he was really back in the city, just that he was visiting his friend. The same friend who’d ditched him a coke den, he realised bitterly. Percy kindly let him charge his phone, and Gwaine was dismayed to see Johnny hadn’t even text to see if he was okay. Prick.

He voiced some choice words aloud to Percy, who without hesitating offered to let him stay the night. Gwaine gratefully accepted his new friend’s offer, feeling more and more glad to have met the man, however weird the circumstances.

They were both feeling much better by the time they realised Percy needed to get to the courthouse. As he went to put his shoes on, Gwaine wandered over to entertain his nan in the sitting room, but her attention was totally absorbed by the news on the TV.

_‘-an inventory report revealed that this was a targeted attack, with just a single high-value item missing. While we are still waiting on more details on this, we can now confirm the identities of the two victims-‘_

As Gwaine was drawn into the story something niggled at the back of his mind. There was something about this that didn’t sit right with him.

_‘-Local police have one suspect caught at the scene in custody, but the stolen item has not yet been recovered. The authorities are working with Renton Security and the University of Bristol to learn more about the intention and motivation behind this heinous crime-‘_

Oh!

Oh _shit_.

That guy yesterday said the uni moved the book to a private security firm, could it possibly be this one? The news said a _single item_ had been taken, and Gwaine knew there was a certain bloodthirsty someone in Bristol on hunt for one particular thing.

Percy’s nan tutted anxiously at the screen. “Oh dear…”

“You alright Gran?” Percival entered the room and crouched down by the old woman, concern etched on his face. He spotted the dark news story and quickly changed the channel.

“Percy…” Gwaine caught his friend’s attention, but after a glance at his nan decided he’d better tell him outside. Percy looked at him puzzled as he shoved his shoes on and grabbed his jacket, but waited patiently till they were outside all the same.

“Listen…” Gwaine felt twitchy and nervous as they stepped out. “I didn’t tell you the real reason why I’m here.”

As Gwaine spilled out his story Percy stayed silent, but his face flit through a range of emotions; shock and concern being the main two. He finally spoke when Gwaine got to the news story.

“You can’t be sure it was the book.”

“I know. But I have a gut feeling.” Gwaine shook his head. “Crazy as it is, it all makes sense.”

Percy couldn’t deny that. He was silent for a moment, thinking everything through before letting out a sigh. “You should tell the police.”

Now it was Gwaine’s turn to sigh. Percy was right of course, his Dad stubbornly refusing to talk was one thing, but now other people were getting hurt. Getting killed. And it’s not like Gwaine’s poking around had led to anything, he still had no idea who the redhead was, or how to find her. If telling the truth about his dad could help the police find her, then Gwaine had to come forward. And he needed to go to the station to check if this suspect they already had in custody was her.

“Why do you think I put my shoes on?” He slapped Percy on the arm and set off walking. The pair soon caught a bus into the city centre, and walked the last few minutes to the courthouse. Percy needed to sort his paperwork out while they were still open, but he would come and meet Gwaine after.

Gwaine bid the man goodbye at the main entrance. He patted his jacket down before setting off, and realised he’d left his cigs at Percy’s house. Damn. He _really_ fancied a smoke before the station. He’d spotted a newsagents on the way, so turned to retrace his steps, and as he did so spotted a pretty woman inside the courts struggling with her things. He held the door open for her and flirted a little, but took the hint to leave her be. Shame. He would have skipped his quest for cigs for a couple more minutes with her.

Smiling, he walked over to the newsagents, his mind on the attractive woman and her attractive friend. Soon enough he was passing back by the courts happily smoking, though he was less relaxed now he noticed an alarm going off up ahead. He finished his cig just as he arrived outside the station, which was absolutely swarming with people.

Ugh, a fire drill. What perfect bloody timing.

“HEY!”

Gwaine’s eyes widened when he caught sight of his caller. The guy from yesterday. Here at a police station the day after Gwaine tried to see the book, the same book that was stolen that night.

Ah.

Gwaine bolted. Sure, it wasn’t a good look, but neither was being anywhere near this investigation. Gwaine had wanted to offer up some information that might be helpful, but once the police found out he’d lied trying to get access to the book they might get the wrong idea. According to the news they’d already caught someone, so either they already had the redhead, or they had someone who would lead them to her, right? Gwaine involving himself, even just to say ‘I’m not involved!’ seemed like an unnecessary complication for both him and the police. Best to just get the hell away from here-

Gwaine skidded to a stop after glancing to his left. What the hell was going on there? That bloke just jumped out a window! Gwaine could swear he saw sparks where his hands touched the van roof. The van rolled forward as yet another guy jumped out, and a small gang of guarded onlookers let out a cheer as he hit the ground. Wait, weren’t those the boys from last night? Gwaine gawked at them before the van surfer drew his attention again by flying over the back wall. This was one hell of a fire drill!

A movement in the corner of Gwaine’s eyes caught his attention, and he remembered he was running away. He pushed himself into overdrive, because _damn_ that girl was fast. Luckily a fire engine pulled round the corner at just the right moment, providing Gwaine with a little cover to duck into an adjacent side alley. He dodged round the next available corner and doubled back towards the city centre, weaving through small streets and pathways as he went. He never slowed down or looked back, but after a while decided he’d safely lost them. He finally stopped to catch his breath in a dingy alley, leaning back against a wall with a sigh. After a moment he slid down till he was almost sitting, safely shielded from the world between a huge skip and some bins.

After his breathing calmed a little he noticed how bad it smelt here. Although after a night in a bush and all that running, he was hardly a rose himself. Anyway, no matter how bad it smelt, Gwaine couldn’t yet bring himself to stand, his lungs were still burning. God, he really needed to quit smoking-

A figure streaked past him, making him jump a little. Gwaine peeked his head forward. The man who just jogged down the alley looked about as wrecked as Gwaine felt a few minutes ago. He doubled over at the other end of the alley, panting so hard Gwaine could hear him despite the distance. He didn’t seem to have noticed his observer.

As Gwaine squinted harder, a spark of recognition flit across his mind. Surely that couldn’t be the van surfer himself? It seemed unlikely, but he looked about the same, and he was running mysteriously through dingy alleys just as Gwaine was. Did this guy really just escape from jail? Is that a real thing people did? The man heaved himself upright and staggered on, and Gwaine found his curiosity overcame his own tiredness.

As he tailed the guy he became more and more convinced it was the same man he’d seen escaping the police station. He acted shifty, always peering around corners before he scurried anywhere, sticking to deserted streets. He was difficult to tail actually, but fortunately Gwaine was quite shifty himself. The man took a strange, windy route that made Gwaine think he definitely had a destination in mind, but was putting effort into getting there unseen. After about ten minutes of following him, Gwaine figured out they were nearing the university campus.

He also had time to think about who this guy was. You don’t break out of jail if you haven’t done something worth skipping town for. And what crimes had been committed in Bristol recently that warranted such action? As far as Gwaine had seen, the only other people arrested last night were his poker buddies, and they had all been standing in that car park cheering this guy on. If there was one other arrest last night, then Gwaine knew what it was for.

Gwaine had found his book thief.

As they reached the uni campus, the thief stepped wearily into a busier street, and Gwaine guessed they were almost there, wherever ‘there’ was. His mark slipped quietly into the library parking garage, and Gwaine finally pieced together what he was after. The man just wanted his motor.

After entering the garage a beat behind him, Gwaine didn’t have to look far to spot his man. He was kneeling in a parking spot not far away. Ah, the cops must have taken his car- he should have expected that really. He looked so miserable Gwaine almost felt sorry for him, before remembering he was a murder suspect. Although from what Gwaine had seen he hardly looked like the murdering type.

Still, he was connected to all this, so he might know the redhead. There was a reason Gwaine had followed him instead of phoning the police. This guy had answers, and somehow the universe had delivered him to Gwaine right as he was looking for them. Should he question him right here, right now? He knew it wasn’t exactly legal, but it’s not like Gwaine would ever get the opportunity to talk to him again without the police complicating everything.

Gwaine ducked back into the shadows as the man stood. God, he looked so exhausted Gwaine half wanted to just leave him be for decency’s sake. Instead he watched as the man walked over to another car, some little rustbucket, and-

Woah! He mumbled something and the door just opened. What the hell?

Oh, he was going. He was about to steal this car and go, this was Gwaine’s last chance.

“Hey!” Gwaine yelled as he jumped out. The man flinched in surprise just as he was getting into the car, his foot slipped and he slammed his head against the doorway. He immediately flopped to the ground like a ragdoll. Gwaine was taken aback by this over-reaction, and also by the strange timing of the car engine, which purred to life seemingly unprompted the moment the thief slipped.

Gwaine jogged over to him worriedly. He’d wanted to question him, not kill him.

“Are you alright?” He knelt by him and gave him a couple of light slaps on the face. The man grunted. Gwaine grabbed a handful of his shirt and pulled his chest forward, causing his head to roll as it lifted off the ground. This stirred him and he blinked his eyes open dizzily.

“Gwaine…”

Thump!

His head made a worryingly loud noise as Gwaine dropped him in surprise. Gwaine winced, a little guilty.

“Hey! How do you know my name?” These little face slaps weren’t doing anything, he was really out cold now. Panicking a little, Gwaine checked the back of his head for blood, but fortunately he didn’t actually seem that injured. Really a little bang like that shouldn’t have knocked him out. To be fair he had seemed tired beforehand, and he’d bashed his head on the car, although that was more due to his own clumsiness than Gwaine surprising him.

Gwaine stood and put his hands on his hips, frowning down at the man. How did he know his name? Had word gotten to the redhead that he was searching for her, and did that mean this man was definitely connected to her? He’d been found stealing the book, which was enough of a connection for Gwaine. Although… this guy was way too clumsy to be a killer. And like Percy he just didn’t have violent vibes.

Since he clearly wasn’t a danger, Gwaine figured it wouldn’t be too big a deal if the police went a few more hours without him. Gwaine wasn’t endangering anyone by hanging on to him for a bit. And besides, and he still needed to question him. Who knows, maybe he would be more receptive to Gwaine than the cops. From what Gwaine could gather he wasn’t a fan of them.

Gwaine looked around furtively. It was lucky no one had seen their little display. He needed to get him out of here.

He looked at rumbling car in front of them. No key in the ignition, not hotwired… how had he done it? Shaking his head, Gwaine fiddled with front seat and cranked it forward before lumping the thief in the back. He made sure to mind the man’s head as he did so. He fixed the seat, hopped behind the wheel, and set off with his kidnapped fugitive and stolen vehicle.

Objectively, Gwaine knew he was making some odd decisions at the moment. Yet somehow this felt like the right thing to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'know that scene in Emperor's New Groove where they keep just missing each other in the diner? That's Merlin not seeing any of the knights who were in the police station at the same time as him!


	14. Reunion

_‘This trick takes a few minutes. You’ll be amazed!’_

Arthur pressed his forehead against the desk as he listened to the audio of Merlin’s last interview. He should have been there. The bastard was clearly planning this all along, it’s why he kept quiet about himself, it’s why he delayed his interrogation. He’d played them perfectly.

How the hell he pulled it off Arthur had no idea. No one did. The man had somehow tampered with their security footage so his every appearance on the screen went black, he’d cleaned out their files on him, took physical copies from Arthur’s desk, took Emerit’s license from the evidence room, and deleted emails about himself from both senders and receivers _simultaneously_ , which shouldn’t even be possible! All in less than ten minutes. It was the perfect escape.

Near every cop in the station had been out for hours searching for him, to no avail. Arthur himself had raced to the university parking garage as soon as the immediate chaos died down, but Merlin wasn’t there. He left a pair of officers there to watch out for him and ordered another pair to the car impound, but none had spotted him so far. The man had disappeared without a trace.

He was surely helped by someone. No way he could sweep the station so thoroughly by himself in such a small amount of time. No way he could fill the station with smoke and let himself out of his own cell. Gwen and Elyan Queen had given them what seemed like a good lead at first glance, but they had witnessed their mystery man outside the courts and station while the breakout was happening, so he can’t have been in there helping Merlin. They were still looking into him though, as it seemed more and more likely Merlin had a whole team working to bust him out.

Not that Arthur had seen anyone in the building besides Merlin. It was empty downstairs, he had seen that clearly. Far too clearly. He hadn’t told anyone about the weird smoke, he didn’t even know how to explain it. It was like something from a dream. The people who tried to open the doors downstairs said they just unlocked suddenly, and when they rushed in the room was hazy but mostly cleared. The firefighters didn’t find any source for the smoke.

There were a lot of things that didn’t add up about the escape. A lot of blame had been thrown around in trying to explain it. Phil and Oliver had a ferocious fight not long after Merlin got away, and seemed about ready to kill one another until a look at the patchy security footage showed Phil signing Merlin back in, even though the sign in sheet now showed no evidence of this. The pair had resigned to glaring at each other from afar. Chief Sanders was at a loss with the situation, but seemed inclined to blame them both.

He’d also given Arthur and Lee some serious shit for letting Merlin get away. Lee was cagey when Sanders asked what had happened when he found him, and Sanders immediately told him even desk-bound officers should be able to perform a basic arrest. He suggested Lee go for retraining. He also said Arthur had provided the criminal with an escape route by lining the van up for him. Arthur asked if he should have just let the criminal get on with raiding the station. Sanders ordered them both out his office after that.

He was currently out dealing with the press while Arthur scrambled to make sense out of the little evidence they had left, but all he had were recordings of Merlin’s nonsensical interviews and random scraps that didn’t lead anywhere. It was getting later and later, Merlin hadn’t been found and Arthur still had nothing. He futilely thumped his forehead against the desk, willing an insight to appear.

Suddenly a takeaway bag landed next to his head. He looked up.

“Peace offering.” That woman from earlier, Alice, smirked down at him. As Arthur lifted his head, she rustled open the bag and pulled out two paper-wrapped burgers. “Veggy or beef?”

Arthur leaned back, not sure what to make of her. The burgers smelt delicious though.

“Beef.”

Alice happily chucked it over, then pulled a chair up to Arthur’s desk and plopped down opposite him. He watched her dubiously as she unwrapped the remaining burger and took a huge bite. She let out a satisfied hum, then finally met Arthur’s gaze.

“Sorry I was rude to you earlier.” She delicately wiped some sauce from the edge of her lips. “I was caught up in the chase, you know how it is.”

Arthur was still unsure of her, but under her expectant gaze starting unwrapping his burger all the same. “No problem. I’m sorry too.”

She rewarded his answer with a smile. “I’m helping Gwen over at the defence office, popped out to get us some food. We haven’t eaten all evening and I thought the same might be true for you and your friends!”

She gestured and took a bite. Arthur looked in the bag and sure enough there were a few more burgers inside.

“That’s very kind.”

It _was_ very kind. So why did Arthur still feel uneasy? He took a bite of the burger- maybe it was just his empty stomach making him paranoid. That said, he didn’t understand why she was eating with him before heading back to Queen.

“So… how’s it going over here anyway?”

Ah, he could see her angle now.

“Burgers for information, is it?” Arthur raised an eyebrow at her. She grinned playfully in response, completely unfazed.

“Can’t the two be unrelated?” Her eyes twinkled innocently. “Honestly Arthur, we want the same thing. Maybe if you lot shared a bit more with Gwen we could help catch him. She’s told _you_ what _she_ knows.”

It was true- because of the unique circumstance Queen had broken privilege and told them everything Merlin said to her. They now had police escorts watching her brother’s flat in case Merlin tried to make contact, as he apparently knew of him somehow.

“Well exactly,” Arthur frowned. “She’s already told us everything, there’s nothing new she can bring to the investigation.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. Have you considered she’s a lot smarter than you all?” Alice responded lightly, before grinning at the stony expression on Arthur’s face. “Or smarter than most. And you could use all the help you can get right? We do genuinely want to help, we’ve been working non-stop since the break out trying to figure this all out. But Gwen’s too polite to ask of course; she doesn’t even know I’m here.”

Arthur sighed. It wasn’t a question of how smart she was, Arthur knew she was smart. Queen ran circles around him whenever they were on the same case, it drove him nuts. But this was different, and she didn’t deserve to be burdened by all this. There was no point in her going mad over it like he was.

“I’m sorry, I can’t help you. We really don’t have much to go anyway, Merlin cleaned us out.” He conceded a bit of the truth, since he couldn’t stand the idea of Queen thinking he was being obstructive just to spite her. No matter how hard she made his job, Arthur still respected her. He could tell she was a good person.

Alice twisted her lips before sighing in defeat. She sat back and let her eyes wander around the room. “It’s crazy what happened… I wonder how he did it…” She spoke casually, but Arthur could practically see the wheels turning in her mind. Her cool façade couldn’t fool him- she was only slightly connected to the case, so wouldn’t still be here if she wasn’t dying to figure it out. He’d noticed her listening to everything and everyone in the direct aftermath of the escape, soaking in the pure chaos. She was utterly fascinated.

She looked back at Arthur, studying him for a moment before standing up. “Well, I’d better get back. Thank you for your time anyway.” She popped the last chunk of burger in her mouth before fishing another whole one out the bag, for Gwen he assumed.

“Thank you for the burgers.”

They exchanged polite and mistrustful smiles before she slinked off. Arthur watched her go, still unsure what to make of her. She seemed nice enough, but something about her just put him on edge.

Arthur shook his head and decided to move on. He picked up the takeaway bag and walked over to cybercrimes. Lee tore into his burger gratefully, and asked Arthur to pass along his thanks next time he saw Alice.

“Sure.” Arthur leaned against the doorway. “She was here to find out what evidence we’re working on.”

Lee laughed hollowly. “What did you tell her?”

Arthur shrugged. “There’s nothing to tell.”

Lee sighed and leaned back in his chair. Arthur was half hoping he would tell him otherwise, but the look on the man’s face was all he needed to know.

“I locked the computer.” Lee shook his head hopelessly. “I don’t autosave any passwords. In five minutes he hacked every system in the building, he hacked the courthouse email server, he even deleted Emerit’s license record from the national database. In five minutes.”

“Well, he had help, didn’t he?” They’d already established that was the only way it was possible, Lee himself had said so. Now his friend’s eyes drifted from monitor to monitor while he absently rubbed his throat.

“He was doing something to the computer…He…”

Lee trailed off, but he’d caught Arthur’s attention now. Something about the uncertainty in his voice was… relatable.

“What do you mean?”

Lee looked at Arthur and his mind came back to the room. He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter- “

“Lee did you see something… weird?”

Arthur’s suspicion was confirmed by the look that passed over his eyes. “Did you?”

Arthur nodded. He took a deep breath, closed the door behind him, and recounted what he’d seen in a low tone. Lee listened, and when he was done he didn’t call him crazy, or mistaken, or explain it away. Instead he nodded, as if reassured by Arthur’s story.

“When I got in here the screens were flicking through pages like mad, and he wasn’t even touching the keyboard. And when I yelled for you he said my name and…” Lee rubbed his throat. “I couldn’t speak. I mean I spoke but no sound came out. Then when he got away I suddenly could again. And Arthur, I heard those doors downstairs open the _second_ he jumped out the window, like it was him leaving that unlocked them. I know that sounds crazy, but…”

“It’s all crazy.” Arthur saw the distress in Lee’s eyes and pressed on. “But I believe you.”

What Lee claimed was truly impossible, and yet so was what Arthur had seen. He had no choice but to believe him. Lee gave him a grateful look, which Arthur returned.

If he was going crazy, then at least he wasn’t alone.

Suddenly the door opened forcefully, and Sander’s irritated face appeared. The pair shifted uncomfortably, both painfully aware how bad it would be if Sanders found out what they’d just been discussing.

“Do either of you have _anything_ new for me?”

Arthur shook his head, while Lee refreshed his screen with an unhopeful look. Since the breakout they’d been able to scrape together some images of the Queen twins’ mystery man to investigate, but there was still the worry he’d be as digitally non-existent as Merlin.

“Facial recognition’s running on the courthouse and uni security footage, but it’s low quality. It’ll take a while to identify suspect two, if he can be identified.”

“He’d better be, for all our sakes… It’s late. Leave that ticking overnight, go home and get some rest, the both of you.” Sanders rubbed his eyes despairingly before shifting his gaze to Arthur. “Oh, and King, next time you talk to a sketch artist try not to add unnecessary details.”

He flicked a sheet of paper at Arthurs’s chest as he turned to leave. Arthur caught it before it floated to the ground, and saw it was the draft wanted poster for Merlin.

“What’s wrong with it?” The sketch looked like Merlin. It wasn’t perfect but it was fairly accurate, all things considered.

Sanders stopped the door before it closed behind him and looked sceptically at him and Lee.

“You don’t see anything wrong with that?”

Arthur and Lee exchanged an uncertain glance before looking back to Sanders. Their boss rolled his eyes then answered as he walked away.

“He wasn’t wearing a scarf.”

Arthur frowned at the sketch as Sanders disappeared. Wasn’t he? Arthur could have sworn that… alright, maybe he did need some rest.

After bidding goodbye to Lee and passing out the last couple of burgers, Arthur decided to walk home. He was too tired to drive home safely, and could do with some fresh air anyway. It would do his head some good after what was probably the longest day of his life.

It was strange, back at the station Arthur thought through everything like a detective, but out beneath the sky… his mind wandered to places he wasn’t entirely comfortable with. He thought about misbehaving smoke, doors slamming shut, vans that moved of their own volition. He thought of his friend unable to speak. He thought of the last words his enemy spoke.

_‘This trick takes a few minutes. You’ll be amazed!’_

Arthur didn’t believe in magic. He wouldn’t let that stupid git Merlin make him believe in magic.

_‘I’m actually_ the _Merlin, I’m a sorcerer.’_

The hairs on Arthur’s arms stood up as he passed a familiar, unfamiliar spot. How could he live so close to such a strange little path and never notice it? Arthur stepped onto 1 Warlock Way and traced his hand over the strange symbols carved onto the old stone mailbox. He then fished his phone out his pocket and brought up Marvin Emerit’s picture.

Although it was against protocol to text pictures of evidence, Phil’s message from that morning turned out to be their saving grace, as it was the only image of the ID that survived. They were already circulating the image, appealing for information about the mysterious old man.

Of course, if Merlin was to be believed…

_‘You can spot the resemblance if you look closely.’_

No, no, no. Arthur didn’t believe Merlin. Sure, there was maybe a… _hint_ of similarity, there was a chance they were related. But that just meant Merlin might be Emerit’s grandson or something. He certainly wasn’t the man himself.

That would be ridiculous.

Arthur looked back up at the mailbox. Before he had even thought it through, he reached into his pocket, drew out a small notepad, and scribbled some words down. He stared and for a moment doubted his own sanity. Then a raindrop landed on the note, and without a second thought Arthur ripped it from the pad and stuck it in the mailbox.

It was only then that a second thought came, and Arthur considered how stupid that was. It was just a fake address. It was just a strange old mailbox, which wasn’t even accessible, and besides, even if Merlin did see the note somehow… it didn’t tell him anything he didn’t already know.

And yet as Arthur hurried home through the rain, those same words played over in his mind.

_‘Merlin._

_I’m coming for you.’_

* * *

Well that was a waste of time.

An… interesting waste of time, but a waste none the less. For some reason Arthur King was very guarded around Alice. She was used to guys being intimidated by her, and even enjoyed getting them all turned around, but she wasn’t used to such hostility. Well, not without good reason anyway, which she hadn’t given him. She truly wasn’t trying to antagonise him.

Alice sighed and shook the encounter from her mind. It was worth a shot anyway. As she neared the defence office she text Gwen to come let her in- it was so late they were the only two there. Gwen gratefully devoured her burger once the two were inside, and then they quickly got back to work. The two had been alternating between inordinate amounts of paperwork and theorising about the case. So far they had no good theories, which wasn’t surprising given how little evidence they had to go off.

Gwen had apologised multiple times over the night and told her she was fine working alone, but Alice had insisted on staying every time. She couldn’t fully articulate why. At first she was driven by a desire to help Gwen, but after a while she had to admit that wasn’t the only reason. There was just something about this case.

While she specialised in environmental law, save-the-world stuff they called it, Alice still had a solid grounding in criminal defence from university. It was always something that interested her, though she could never remember being this fascinated before. But she supposed she’d never been this close to the action. Just a few hours ago she was a few small steps from catching a suspect, and it was _exhilarating_. Alice smiled to herself, amused by her own excitement. Maybe she should have become a detective instead!

Eventually they made it through the mountain of forms. Gwen sighed and told her it was only the beginning, and she would likely be snowed under by a new wave of paperwork tomorrow. Clearly this ‘Merlin’ hadn’t considered the amount of admin jailbreaks generate. Alice had a full day tomorrow, but offered to help Gwen as soon as she was free. With a sympathetic smile Gwen told her not to worry, she would get through it by then. Alice didn’t believe her, but let the matter go. She could pester her tomorrow, for the time being they were both exhausted.

They parted ways outside the office, Gwen on her bike and Alice on foot. It started raining, but she didn’t mind. Alice liked the rain, and didn’t live too far from the centre anyway. Since she moved from London a few months ago she’d been renting an apartment month to month, a temporary place while she looked to buy somewhere, although so far she’d been too busy to look, and she wasn’t sure what kind of place she wanted. Originally she’d planned to live alone, but lately thought it might be nice to have housemates again. She’d even considered tentatively breaching the topic with Gwen, but hadn’t got round to it yet.

For the time being she had her nice apartment, with her nice bed waiting for her. Alice stepped through her front door with a sigh of relief. After hanging her wet jacket she shivered a little, but knew the room would quickly warm her. In a few moments she would sink into bed and sleep the stress of the day away, and soon be ready to jump back into the fray tomorrow. Alice smiled. As stressful as today was, it had been _exciting_.

Before turning in, Alice went to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water. As she turned off the tap, she noticed a noise.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

It wasn’t the tap. Alice span around, and her heart instantly dropped.

The woman’s presence was like a blackhole, huge and dark and totally out of place. Her long black cloak hung heavily from her, wet and dripping on the hardwood floor. Red hair spilled from beneath her hood, and hidden amongst the tangles were a pair of hungry eyes. They bore into Alice’s, pressing, urgent, and all-consuming.

Alice felt as though a hand had reached into her stomach and crushed it. She opened her mouth to speak, but couldn’t choke out a single sound. The woman smiled.

“Morgana.”

Alice shook out a ragged breath at the sound of that name. It knocked her back in time. _She_ knocked her back in time. After all these years…

“Isabelle.”

Her sister was back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo, twist! I've been so excited to post this, did anyone see it coming? Did anyone not see it coming at all? I did drop in a couple of hints that the Isabelle chapters were at a different time, so points to anyone who spotted those. If anythings unclear let me know, but hopefully the story makes sense now!


	15. The Runaway

Isabelle’s feet were dirty and bloody when she finally stopped. She had run for as long as she could, then walked through the night, through cold muddy fields and over rough stone paths and long and empty roads. She had seen no one, and she was grateful for that. No one could say she came from the lake. The further she got from it, the harder it would be for Merlin to discover Morgana.

But Isabelle couldn’t take Morgana any further like this. She’d held her tightly to keep her warm through the night, but though the winter was milder here, the cold had still seeped through them both. Isabelle needed to get her somewhere warm. Up ahead along a beaten track she could see a little cottage with smoke puffing out the chimney. It reminded her of what her house used to look like before Mummy picked it apart for her spells.

She limped towards it, and as she turned onto the dirt road she saw a tractor trundling through the field next to her. As it approached it’s driver spotted her, and though he was silhouetted by the morning sun, Isabelle could tell he was shocked to see her. He jumped down and ran towards her, panting as he vaulted the fence and stopped before her.

“Oh my god, are you okay?”

Isabelle knew she looked a sorry sight. “Can you… can you get her warm?” she sniffled and began to cry as she peeled back her cardigan to reveal Morgana.

The teenager’s eyes widened, and he immediately scooped the pair of them up and carried them gently towards the farmhouse. Isabelle thought his parents were nice, if a little dramatic, but she paid them little mind as she and Morgana warmed by the fire. She felt so cold that the warmth was painful at first, and she hoped Morgana didn’t feel the same way.

“What’s her name?”

The question brought Isabelle’s mind back to the room. There had been other questions that she answered in a daze, but she needed to concentrate for this one. She needed to protect Morgana.

“Alice.”

A name from a story she’d heard long ago.

When the doctors came they took ‘Alice’ away from her, and she screamed and kicked for her sister back. Isabelle screamed for her all the while they were in hospital, and the grown-ups learnt a valuable lesson about separating these sisters.

After that she never left her sisters side, the foster home knew they were a package deal, and potential adoptive parents learned to steer clear. Anyone who wanted to adopt Morgana would have to take Isabelle too, and she made it clear she only had one real Mummy. As soon as Morgana was old enough to learn, she made it clear to her too. She made it clear they only had each other left, and no one else would understand her or the great things she would do.

She tried to teach her the old ways, but magic didn’t come to Isabelle like it had her mother, no matter what she tried. And it didn’t help when Morgana would misbehave. She would tell people things Isabelle told her to keep secret, she would bat her eyelashes for those pretend parents that came to visit, she would think of magic as some game. Isabelle realised that to protect her she needed to be strict. She needed to make sure Isabelle realised the seriousness of their situation, and learn to respect their passed mother and the old ways.

She showed her so much love, and it tore her apart to see Morgana throw it back in her face. To flout her rules and sing her secrets. Over time Isabelle had made herself a clear enemy of authority, and the foster home tyrants hated her and would try and turn Morgana against her when she was out of sight. One day they tricked the poor girl into saying too much, and before Isabelle knew what was happening her sister was herded into the back of a car, suitcase in hand, bawling her eyes out.

Isabelle raged and raged but they wouldn’t let her see her sister, wouldn’t tell her where she was. Isabelle ran away from foster home after foster home, but never found her little sister. She never forgot her, but what could she do? She had no power, no magic, she was a homeless teenager living on the streets, no family left to help her.

After months of searching she returned to the Isle of the Blessed and wept into it’s lake. She thought maybe it could help her, bring back Morgana’s book to guide her, but she scoured the area and never found it.

After years of searching she found her childhood home. It was a ruined mess on the edge of nowhere, deep in Scottish wilderness. The nearest village was thirty miles away, and a farmer on the path to her home warned her it was haunted. She spat at his feet. When she finally reached her home she wept in it’s charred and overgrown husk, her shaking hand tracing the burnt remnants of her childhood. There had been so much love here, all thrown away… and for what? Morgana was lost in body and mind, and Isabelle had no way to find her, no way to remind her of her destiny.

On the blackened walls of her home were the faint remnants of runes. Isabelle stayed there for a long time studying them, only venturing away to steal what she needed. She slowly remembered her childhood growing crops and hunting rabbits, and thanked her mother for teaching her how to survive.

She remembered carving runes onto bones, and so saved the trophies of her hunting to try this again. It didn’t work. The symbols were correct and ready to host power, but Isabelle could summon none within her. She tried, she tried for years and years, but nothing came to her.

She did not have magic.

But she knew what it felt like. She had sensed it in her mother, and Morgana’s book, and her sister’s tiny form when she held her tight against her chest. Only Morgana could restore magic to the world. No matter how long it took, Isabelle had to find her.

Painful as it was, Isabelle tore herself away from her childhood home and set about searching the country. She moved from city to city, learning things along the way, learning how to move unnoticed and live in the shadows. Sometimes she made allies who would help her survive, but no one she trusted, no one she thought twice about leaving. There was only one person on this planet she missed.

Morgana would be a woman by now. Isabelle worried she wouldn’t even recognise her if she saw her.

But there was one thing Isabelle certainly recognised. She was in another nameless town on her endless journey, when for the first time in years something gave her hope. Delivered to the doorstep of her squat, blown open to the right page as if by fate, was a newspaper. The picture by the article was black and white, but as soon as Isabelle spotted the book her vision filled with colour.

Morgana’s book. It was back.

And being traded on Antiques Roadshow like some common piece of junk. Isabelle burned with hatred for the people in that picture, treating such a rare and powerful item with so little respect.

Where had it been all these years? Who was this Stanley Strongman, who was he to trade it away so casually? Did he… Did he get it from her mother? Was there a chance, the slimmest chance, that she had survived?

She needed to find him.

While her time at home had taught Isabelle how to track animals, her time travelling had taught her how to track people. It was her life’s mission, after all. Morgana was exceptionally elusive, but most people blundered through this world obtrusively, leaving tracks all around. Once Isabelle had a name she could follow the breadcrumbs, learn their patterns of behaviour.

Just a few days later Isabelle was standing on a street corner, waiting patiently for her prey. She knew Stanley Strongman no longer had the book, of course, but he could definitely shed some light on where it had been. Maybe she would even be able to force him into getting it for her; he might still have some access to it while it was at the university.

Finally he arrived home, staggering and clearly drunk. Isabelle followed him like a shadow, then in a flash the caught his front door as it swung shut behind him. Wasting no time, she rushed in and pushed him down before he had even turned back to face her. He went down easily, yelling as he sprawled across his grimy carpet. Isabelle turned a disdainful eye around the room. Clearly the money from the book hadn’t come through yet- she had stayed in abandoned squats cleaner than this house.

Stanley rolled and tried to climb to his feet, but Isabelle stomped a boot on his chest. The old man wheezed pathetically.

“Who- who are y- “

“Stanley Strongman.” Isabelle dropped her knee to his chest and griped his fat chin. “Last week you sold something very precious to me. I want it back.”

“You fucking crazy bitch- “

Isabelle tightened her grip around his jaw and he sputtered.

“You’re going to tell me everything you know about the book.”

Stanley’s eyes widened. “Did that… did that lad send you? Look, it’s not like I ever hurt the old lady-”

“What old lady?”

He narrowed his eyes in confusion as Isabelle dared to hope. Could he possibly mean her mother? She would be around his age, so he could hardly call her old-

Suddenly Isabelle was knocked from behind- Stanley had taken advantage of her moment of distraction to bring his knees up into her back and twist free. He quickly struggled to his feet, but Isabelle wasn’t disorientated for long and soon pounced on his back. He grabbed a fistful of her hair as she tried to wrestle him back to the ground. She was fitter, but he was a heavy brute, and packed force into his punch. He struck her neck and she fell to the floor, gasping for air.

Isabelle heard three beeps, and looked up to see Stanley smirking down at her, phone in hand.

“Hello? I’ve been attacked, I need- “

Seething with rage, Isabelle launched herself up at him. He tried to kick her down but she dodged around his foot, and in a flash she whipped out her dagger and sunk it into his gut. Their eyes connected as he grunted in surprise. He didn’t expect that. Neither did Isabelle.

She stepped away from him, softly pulling the knife out his gut as she did so. She reached back to tug the phone from his hand, which slipped loose without too much resistance. Stanley was still in shock, looking between her and the bloody knife. With another grunt he fell to his knees, his hands gravitating towards the gash in his torso.

Isabelle had never stabbed a person before, only animals. It was strange, Stanley was so different to her usual prey, and yet his eyes were near identical to those of a frightened doe. He seemed unable to speak, only whimper, and he looked pleadingly at Isabelle as if she would save him. She, the one who stabbed him.

Isabelle supposed he had no one else left. She crouched before him and put a gentle hand on his cheek.

“Where did you get the book, Stanley?”

Something seemed to die in his eyes as her question reached him. She repeated it, but he either couldn’t or wouldn’t respond, and instead sunk to the floor, his eyelids drooping. Isabelle frowned in annoyance and shook him in case he was faking, but his hand fell away from his wound as he lost consciousness. He wouldn’t fake that.

The phone still tittered in Isabelle’s hand, and she decided to leave it connected so help would come. If Stanley could be saved after this then he could still provide answers. If not… then he was hardly a great loss to the world. Isabelle only regretted how quickly things had escalated. She left with no answers, only more questions. Who were the ‘lad and old lady’ Stanley spoke of? How would she find them now, whoever they were?

Isabelle was so consumed with this question that it almost overshadowed the fact she may have just killed a man. To be fair, Stanley Strongman hardly deserved to live. From what Isabelle could see he was a lonely, disgusting old man. And he’d shown the utmost disrespect for Morgana’s book, to sell it so thoughtlessly. Though he didn’t know it, this world was Morgana’s, and when she returned the queen of magic wouldn’t tolerate fools. Especially not fools who stood in her or her sister’s way.

Sirens filled Isabelle’s ears as she slinked away through the night. She banished Stanley from her mind and focused on her next steps. Stanley wasn’t her main reason for being in Bristol anyway, she was here for the book. Isabelle wasn’t sure how to find Morgana, but she was certain the girl would need her heritage. It would lead Isabelle to her sister, and her sister to her destiny.

Over the next couple of days Isabelle staked out the university, learning it’s layout and planning the perfect moment to make her move. She had been hasty with Stanley, and because of it things ended bloody. The university had more security, more means to track her down after the theft. As soon as the alarms went off the police would be on her tail, so Isabelle decided it would be easier to break out than in.

She snuck into the building behind a crowd of students going to classes, and stowed away in various spots until the end of the day found her in a utilities closet right next to the lab she suspected the book was in. She just needed to wait a little longer until everyone had cleared out, and then-

“It’s not actually here anymore, it’s been moved to a private security firm.”

_No no no!_

Isabelle sank to the floor and held her head in her hands. Whoever these men were, they were talking about the book. It was gone. Isabelle seethed, her eyes suddenly wet. Couldn’t she do anything right? She thought she was being smart by waiting, but in her hesitancy they had moved the book. Now she didn’t know where it was.

In a fit Isabelle burst out the closet and ran outside, raking in the fresh air through short and panicked breathes. What was she going to do? A private security firm? What private security firm?

“Excuse me?”

Isabelle flinched back. A man was at her side, looking at her with concern.

“Sorry, I… I just wondered if you’re okay?”

Isabelle recognised his voice. It was the man she’d heard inside, the one who said the book had been moved. She quickly calmed her breathing and looked at him innocently.

“I… I was driving, and… my car got hit and it’s all scratched up and dinted and they didn’t even stop. I saw they pulled out of this car park before they hit me, so I came back later to ask the receptionist who they were because I only saw it was some security firm, but- but the receptionist has gone home and- “

“Woah okay.” The man’s eyes widened as Isabelle started to cry again. “Um, was it Renton Security-”

“Yes!” Isabelle grasped his shoulder, surprising him. She immediately let go, trying to act scattered and defenceless again. “Yes… I think so. Renton Security? They were definitely here?”

“Er, yeah, a few hours ago-“

“My accident was a few hours ago!” Isabelle smiled at him. “Thank you so much, now I can call them and… get their insurance information!”

“Yeah, no problem. Good luck with that.” He seemed uncomfortable, despite how sweetly she was smiling at him, and walked away from her awkwardly. She smiled after him, trying to seem normal.

As soon as he was out of sight she rushed off, looking up Renton Security as she went. Fortunately it was close, on the edge on the city centre, which meant the book was still within her reach. Although… if the university was done with it then who knows where it would be tomorrow. Biding her time had turned out to be a waste of time. Whatever the consequences, whatever the risk, Isabelle had to act tonight. She would do whatever it takes.

Whatever it takes to help Morgana.

* * *

Alice Black was not special.

She believed she could change the world, sure, but she knew it wasn’t her sole responsibility to do so. Everyday she used laws created by heroes to help her represent and champion individuals fighting for clean water, fresh air and human rights. It takes a planet to save a planet, she knew that, and she was just happy to be doing her part.

Alice had no longing for power, at least not an unreasonable amount. Sure, she wanted the power to help people, or hold them accountable, she wanted the power to make a difference and all the responsibility that came with it. But she didn’t long for absolute power, no matter what her sister had promised her. That ‘great destiny’ simply didn’t exist. No, despite what she’d been told as a child, Alice knew destiny was something you made for yourself.

It had taken a lot of therapy to realise this. More than any child should need. And her adoptive parents had been fantastic, patient and understanding, they never blamed her for what she believed to be true. They had stood by her as she realised there was no such thing as magic. They had shown her what true love looked like, shown her that how her sister treated her was wrong. They protected her from Isabelle even when she wanted nothing more than to find her again. They were patient when she still believed what Isabelle had told her, they were gentle when she thought love meant pain.

And when she realised the truth, they supported her. Alice stopped believing in her sister, she stopped believing she had a secret name, she stopped believing in magic. Alice had no destiny, no ancient past.

Unfortunately, Isabelle didn’t seem to agree. And as she stood before her, smiling dangerously, black cloak dripping onto the floor, it was clear she hadn’t come to terms with reality quite as Alice had.

She didn’t see Alice standing before her. She saw Morgana.

“How did you find me?”

“I looked everywhere.”

There was an innocent crack in Isabelle’s voice that tore at Alice’s heart. She looked down as her eyes began to tear.

“I’ve been everywhere looking for you, and now you’re here, so close to where we started. I’m so sorry I let them take you, Morgana…”

The name stung her. She looked up at her sister, the closest person she had to a mother for the first decade of her life. Isabelle was an adult now, but in her eyes Alice saw the girl who’d held her, sang to her, told her bedtime stories.

Horror stories, she reminded herself. Tales of sacrifices, massacres and evil wizards hunting her down.

“Child services didn’t take me, they _rescued_ me.”

Isabelle’s face fell. Did she not understand, even now, what she’d done?

“You shouldn’t be here Isabelle. At least, not… like this. This is my home.” Alice gestured with a sad frustration, unable to put into words just how wrong this felt. Isabelle must have followed her home, followed her _into_ her home. And now she was here, in her space uninvited, dredging up memories Alice struggled to face at the best of times.

Isabelle’s eyebrows drew together in confusion, and she took a step forward. “Morgana, I-“

“Please don’t call me that.” Alice drew back reflexively.

Isabelle came to a stop in response. Though she looked more heartbroken than she had any right to be, it still pained Alice to see her that way. As soon as that feeling occurred Alice had to shake it from her- Isabelle had done more damage to her than she could possibly return.

“It’s okay, its… its not your fault you don’t know who you are. It’s mine. But I’m here to make it right! I brought you something I was meant to give you a long time ago.”

Alice didn’t say anything in response. She didn’t know what to say, or to expect. It was shocking that Isabelle still believed these fantasies after so long, who knows what other madness she’d brought with her. Alice felt at a complete loss as the woman loosened her cloak and let it fall to the floor, revealing her tattered clothes and a large drawstring bag, which she slowly swung off her back. Alice’s breath hitched as she caught sight of it… she couldn’t explain why.

Time seemed to slow as Isabelle opened the bag and drew from it a huge, ancient book. As Alice stared at it something seemed to build in her, she could hear her own heartbeat and the ground felt ghostly beneath her feet.

“It’s yours.”

Isabelle’s soft words drew Alice back into the room. She blinked up at her sister, and a sickly realisation hit her stomach.

“That’s…” Alice steadied herself on the counter as she realised exactly who was in her apartment. “That’s the stolen book.”

“I got it back for you.” Isabelle smiled, and a horrible stab of fear rushed through Alice. 

“It was you. You killed those men.”

“Our family has always fought and killed to- “

“Get out!” Alice reached behind her and brought a kitchen knife in front of her, trying to look forceful despite the tears in her eyes and waver in her voice.

Isabelle backed up, looking scared and hurt.

“I’m trying to help you!”

“No! I don’t want your help, I don’t- I don’t want your magic! Get out!” Alice couldn’t stop the tears from rolling as she stepped forward with the knife, but when she blinked them away Isabelle had already disappeared. Alice fell to the floor in tears as she heard the front door slam shut and dropped the knife like it might burn her.

After a few shaking breathes Alice wobbled to her feet. She grabbed her mobile from the kitchen counter and rushed into the corridor to lock the front door. One hand was on the door and the other starting to type 999 when she noticed the book at her feet.

Her hands fell, their tasks already forgotten. She stared at the book. That detached feeling was back… her heart roared in her ears as she sank slowly to the ground, thunder clapped in her chest as Alice touched the ancient leather, and she wasn’t sure if the spark that flew from her fingers was imagined or not.

The world slipped away from her thoughts, and as she peeled back the cover a symphony of whispers filled her head, an onslaught of strange words rich and deep as molasses. They begged Alice to sink into them. They dragged her down, and as Alice tumbled down into unconsciousness, she realised she had no choice in the matter. Alice wasn’t in charge anymore.

Alice wasn’t Alice anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After this chapter there'll be an unfortunate pause between updates- if you've made it this far then you know I like to have a few plates spinning at once, and writing like that involves a lot of backtracking, so to do it well I need to basically finish the whole fic before posting more. I'd consider this point the end of Act 1, so thank you everyone who's read this far and i'll be back with more in a few months!


End file.
